


Amends to the Dead

by Helholden



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Confinement, F/M, Freedom, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helholden/pseuds/Helholden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of Francis’s disloyalty with Olivia, Mary finds herself alone in pain, playing a game of waiting as Francis does as he pleases. Sebastian is leaving the castle, though, and he has a proposition for her that doesn’t involve any more waiting on her behalf—if she isn’t afraid to take what she wants, and if she isn’t afraid of him. Knowing she needs to get away from the castle, Mary joins Sebastian in the countryside. Follows directly after the events of 1x06.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 

In the darkness she could find comfort, but it was all nothing more than a dying ember in the fireplace. The warmth was fading, and so were her comfort and her courage. They fled before her like frightened animals, taking wind and flying far away while she was stuck here. All she had wanted was to be loved, was to find her prince’s heart again after so many years of being apart, but his heart had been given to another, and so had his bed. His words were empty, and so were his promises. Francis had made them to her so willingly, so often, and then he had abandoned them at her feet like old toys he had grown tired of playing with.

 

 _He is just like his father_ , Mary thought, _taking comfort where he may_. King Henry had left his wife to her own devices to endure alone. Mary did not like nor trust Queen Catherine, but the woman was in an impossible position much like Mary, and so she could sympathize with her plight. It was not hard to see how Queen Catherine had become the woman she was today. With a husband like the king, no woman would find peace.

 

Mary could not trust Francis. She could not love him, not if he could take another woman so eagerly into his bed and share such intimacy with her. She had asked Francis to send Olivia away, and instead he chose to keep her. While he sought comfort, Mary was punished for it. She had to suffer. She had to hurt, and he got to smile. He got to laugh. He got to love.

 

 _And I must wait_ , Mary thought forlornly, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders. _I must wait forever, and never know happiness_.

 

The fire crackled near her feet as it drew lower to the ground, and Mary thought to put some more logs onto the fire, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand. All she could do was sit there, sit there and wait. _I will wait forever_ , she thought yet again, feeling tears sting at the back of her eyes. Quickly, she raised a hand to her face to wipe away a fallen tear away from her cheek. It had betrayed her, and fallen against her will. _I have no will here, only Francis’s whim_.

 

The door to her chambers creaked open, but her guards were just outside. They would not let anyone in her room but her maidservants, her friends, or someone important, so Mary did not turn around to look. It was likely Aylee, Kenna, Lola, or Greer.

 

Sniffling, Mary wiped both eyes to clean herself. “I must look a fright,” she said. “Please, don’t mind me.”

 

“I’m sure you look just fine,” came the familiar voice, startling her.

 

Mary twisted around on her bench, her mouth hanging open in shock at the sight of Sebastian in her room. He was the last person she expected to see here. After the unpleasant business between her, him, and Francis, and then his journey into the woods to settle his blood debt with the pagans of the forest, Mary had not expected to see him again so soon. He had been different since he had come back from the forest. He had killed an innocent man for her. Sebastian had killed for her, and it frightened her.

 

Sebastian stood by her door, not venturing too far into her room. He was keeping his distance still. His pale eyes seemed colder, more distant as well. _It’s my fault_ , Mary told herself, feeling her fingertips rise to touch her lips. _That coldness, that’s my fault_.

 

“Why the long face?” he asked, almost frivolously.

 

Mary turned her gaze down to her lap, dropping her hand to the bench. First, it was Francis’s coldness. Now, it was Sebastian’s at her doorstep.

 

_Can I hold no friends here, not even my childhood ones?_

 

“Ah,” Sebastian said, as if he already knew the answer. “That.”

 

“You don’t even know what I was thinking,” Mary countered back. She did not need to look at Sebastian’s face to know what he meant. She could hear it in his voice as clear as church bells ringing through the air on a Sunday morning.

 

“That I’m a monster,” Sebastian offered softly. He had taken a few steps into her room. His feet were quiet. She looked from the corner of her eye, seeing him with his hands behind his back. He stopped halfway into her chambers. “After what I’ve done, you’ll never see me any other way.” He was silent for a moment. “I’ll never see myself any other way,” he finished in an even softer voice.

 

Overwhelmed with pity, Mary raised her head to look at him. The wall of ice he had constructed behind his eyes was gone in that instant, and he looked a frail and frightened boy, so much more honest than his brother, so much more genuine and true. He was a bastard-born, and she was a queen, but she would be lying to herself if she had not thought of his lips on hers everyday since they had kissed by the lake.

 

She had been drunk on wine and jealousy when she kissed him, but she had not always been so neutral to him. When she had first arrived and Francis kept his distance while entertaining another girl, Mary had found comfort in Sebastian’s friendship and kindness. He had rescued her dog for her, and he had lent her his ear on more than one occasion. Sebastian had been her friend and her confidant. While his half-brother, Francis, had been so fickle with her from the beginning, Sebastian had always been there. Everywhere she went, he had always watched out for her. He had always been true. _Unlike his brother, Francis_.

 

Those were dangerous thoughts, though. Mary was still in a marriage treaty with France to Francis, and Sebastian was his bastard brother. It was treason, just the notion of it. She was queen, and queens should not act as thus.

 

 _Queens do not kiss bastards_ , she thought, but she had kissed Sebastian, and it was for more than just jealousy.

 

And he had kissed her back.

 

“That’s not true,” Mary said weakly. “You did what you thought was right, to protect someone you . . . you . . . ” _Cared about? Why did he do it? Why would he kill someone for me? What could possibly—_

 

“ . . . Love?” Sebastian offered, and Mary felt her heart leap into her throat.

 

She raised a hand to her neck, her nervousness growing. Her palms were sweaty. It was not right, not this, and it wasn’t allowed, but Sebastian crossed the long room, his footsteps echoing against the silence as the fire crackled down to a few dying embers. She was alone in her chambers with him. _He had killed someone, an innocent man. Who is to say he will not kill me, too?_

 

But no, that wasn’t Sebastian. She knew that wasn’t Sebastian.

 

 _But do you really know a man once he’s killed someone?_ Mary asked herself. _Someone innocent?_

 

Her mind echoed back no answer to soothe her anxiety. There was only silence.

 

Sebastian took a seat on the bench with her, and Mary pulled away. He stilled as if her movement had wounded him, and Mary drew her hands into her lap. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, refusing to look at him. If she looked at him, she was afraid of what she would see in his eyes.

 

“Right,” Sebastian told her. “That’s why I’m leaving.”

 

Mary whirled to face him. “What?” she asked suddenly. “What do you mean? Leaving when? Where are you going?”

 

It was a horrible move because then she was looking at his eyes again, and he was trying to hold back from her, but he was also trying to let her in somehow. It was so confusing, looking at him like this, because she never knew exactly what he wanted, even if he made it abundantly clear. Glancing into his eyes was like looking into a pale stream, seeing everything and nothing all at once. All of the rocks in the riverbed were visible to her, and yet the trees and sky obscured her vision. The water ran clear, but nothing was clear.

 

“I have to leave,” Sebastian said frankly, his face pulling back and contorting. He seemed pained to admit it. “I can’t stay here. Things are not so certain anymore. Not for me, not for my mother. I must leave at once with her. We’ll be retreating to the countryside with her sister’s family far away from the castle and far away from court.” Sebastian fell quiet, and she could tell in his expression that this was not his decision. But whose decision was it?

 

“Why?” Mary asked, not understanding his sudden change of heart. “Why must you leave? I don’t understand—”

 

“And I don’t have time to explain,” Sebastian said, standing up from the bench. “I just thought you should know, so when the time comes, I could say a proper goodbye to you.”

 

She didn’t expect to feel even more alone than she already had. There was a hole in her heart, a sinking pit opening wider and wider. “You’re . . . leaving me?”

 

There was a strange flicker in his eyes. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asked.

 

“No,” Mary answered immediately, far too passionately as well, “of _course_ not. I don’t want you to leave. Who will I . . . ”

 

“ . . . Trust?” Sebastian finished for her, a hurt look in his eyes. “Certainly, not me.”

 

Mary lifted her eyes to his. “Certainly, not anyone else,” she whispered.

 

“I killed a man, Your Grace,” Sebastian told her, the wall coming back up in his eyes. “I killed a man for you. I kissed you, even though you are engaged to my brother. I have broken every rule I am supposed to keep—”

 

“For me,” Mary finished quietly.

 

Sebastian swallowed past a lump in his throat. “For you,” he echoed.

 

Slowly, Mary rose from the bench. The tips of her fingers slid against the soft silk embroidered in the cushion as she stood, and she took a step toward Sebastian. He stood his ground, though he looked confused at her approach, and the look in his eyes darkened. Mary saw as he swallowed a second time while she drew closer to him, and she reached out to place a hand against his coat—right above his heart.

 

“I know you did what you did for me,” she whispered, “but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept.”

 

“You are confusing me, Your Grace,” Sebastian said to her.

 

“Mary,” she told him, looking into his eyes. “My name is Mary.”

 

Sebastian’s gaze softened, though the hurt ran deep. “Mary,” he echoed back.

 

She brushed her fingers over his coat, leaning closer. He smelled of ash and soap, a curious combination, but not unpleasant. She closed the distance until her lips settled softly upon his, a gentle whisper of her mouth to his. Mary could taste the dirt on the corner of Sebastian’s mouth, proof of his never-ending practice and determination with the sword. She could smell his sweat beneath the light scent of soap in his clothes, and before she knew it, her hand was in his hair and he kissed her back harder than before, letting go and taking what he wanted while he could have it.

 

In their flurry of kisses, his mouth broke free from hers and found its way to her neck. _This_ , she thought, _this is what I want_. Mary closed her eyes, and she felt Sebastian’s lips kiss a trail down her flesh, raising goose bumps as they went. She clutched to him, caught in his embrace but leaning backward in his arms. If he had let her go, she would have fallen straight to the floor, but he held her fast, his fingers like iron into her gown, into her skin.

 

Breathless, Mary pulled away from him. “Stop, Sebastian,” she warned. “Stop—”

 

Sebastian stopped, breathing hard against her neck, holding onto her too tightly. “Your mind is more mercurial than my father’s,” he told her, half in jest. “You say one thing, and do another.”

 

“I am Queen of Scotland,” Mary reminded him, her voice firm. “I must think of my people—”

 

“Of course,” he said, pulling away from her. His pale green eyes were cold again. “You must think of your people above yourself. That is the way of royalty. I see it in my brother and my father often enough to know it.” He took a step forward, closing the short distance until he was only an inch away from her face. “But the engagement still stands, and not my father or my brother will break it. Who is to say you cannot escape from the castle for a few weeks? You can live somewhere else except for here for a while. No one said you had to stay right here, did they?”

 

Mary felt herself trembling. She could almost feel his lips on hers. His breath, it was warm against her skin. “What are you saying, Bash?”

 

He took in a deep breath, pulling away from her again and confusing Mary even further. Sebastian had composed himself, looking as if nothing had happened between them just moments ago. “You could come to the countryside for a while,” Sebastian told her. “Escape the castle for some fresh air, and no one will suspect anything. My brother cannot keep you here like a prisoner.”

 

Mary furrowed her brow. “And leave with you?” she asked in disbelief. “After his threats against you?”

 

“No one said he had to know you were coming to the same estate as me and my mother,” Sebastian offered as he shook his head slightly. “Olivia will keep him company, I’m sure.” The words were like an arrow to her heart, but Mary knew Sebastian had not meant them in that way. They were simply the truth, and he was simply being honest.

 

That was something Sebastian and Francis didn’t have in common as brothers. _Honesty_ , Mary thought. But what would that make her, to be a liar as well? And wouldn’t this make Bash one, too? Wouldn’t they all be liars, then, living in sin?

 

“I have a reputation,” Mary began shakily.

 

Sebastian shook his head. “I won’t tarnish it,” he whispered, drawing closer, and she closed her eyes, wanting to believe the words.

 

She wanted him to kiss her again, but he didn’t. She felt safe around him, and yet he still felt dangerous. Mary didn’t understand it. She didn’t understand any of it.

 

“I’ll have to think about it,” she said softly.

 

Sebastian pulled away from her. Like a wisp of smoke, he was out of her arms. Mary opened her eyes to see him walking away from her. When he reached her door, he looked back.

 

“I’ll await your answer, Your Grace,” he said, and then he was gone.

 

Mary stared at her door in shock, wondering what had just happened. She sat back down on the bench by the fireplace, feeling no less confused than before. Her thoughts swam too quickly for her to make sense of them, but she raised her fingertips back to her lips.

 

They still burned from his kiss.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

The sun shone down brightly through the green foliage above their heads as they rode their horses along the dirt road, smiling and laughing at each other as they talked on their journey. Guards and retainers flanked the four girls on either side as they were passing beside the forest, surrounded by trees on either side. Mary looked up at the tops of trees. The rays splintered, fracturing through the leaves and catching a gleam here or there that blinded her vision. She lifted a gloved hand to shield her eyes and squinted at the brightness of it.

 

“Oh, how much longer ‘til we’re _there_?” Greer demanded in a silly, high-pitched voice, sounding a lot like a petulant child. When Mary glanced over her shoulder at her friend, she caught Greer’s gaze. Her friend’s inquisitive expression turned quickly into a grin, bearing all of her teeth at Mary, eyes twinkling.

 

Mary grinned back, and then she looked forward again to watch where she was going on the road as she guided the horse’s reins. “It shouldn’t be but a few more hours until we’re there,” she offered, which earned her a groan from Aylee, Lola, and Greer all at once. “As I recall,” Mary reminded them in a firm voice, “you _all_ wanted to get out of the castle as well.”

 

“Kenna didn’t,” Aylee said airly. “She wanted to stay because she was afraid she would miss the king.”

 

“Miss his bed, maybe,” Greer commented.

 

Lola reached over and popped Greer on the arm. “Greer, she’s our friend!”

 

“I was only speaking the truth!”

 

“I don’t see how she does it,” Aylee added. “Being his mistress, that is.”

 

“It’s her choice,” Mary said suddenly, speaking louder over the others, “and we, as her friends, ought to show our support if it makes her happy.”

 

“Oh, but she’s _miserable_ all the time!” Greer proclaimed in frustration. “Moping about ‘Diane this’ and ‘tiles that,’ and next thing you know, she’ll see a ‘D’ on the drapes and ask King Henry to burn those, too!”

 

The girls couldn’t help it. All at once, they burst into raucous laughter atop their horses, temporarily halting the journey because they startled their beasts. When the animals were calm again, they continued on their journey down the road, but with each hoof beat against the packed earth, Mary felt her heart begin to pound inside of her ribcage.

 

 _What am I doing?_ Mary asked herself, glancing up at the treetops more warily this time. The white beams that broke in fragments through the leaves were beautiful to behold, but they blinded her sight. Much like Sebastian’s eyes seemed to do to her every time she looked in them. _Why am I coming out here like this? To meet Bash in secret, while I abandon my ladies at the cottage to wait for me?_ It almost felt like she was doing something wrong. No, it _did_ feel like she was doing something wrong. Her heart fluttered, frightened of her choice.

 

She thought of their kiss, abruptly ended, and felt the heat return to her skin.

 

 _Am I his mistress?_ she thought. Now, that was a strange thought. _No, I will not give myself to him. We are not wed. I do not love him. I will be ruined. My reputation . . ._

 

Mary steeled herself against her sudden doubt, tightening her jaw and sitting up straighter on her saddle. Was she doing this because of Francis, or was she doing this because of herself? Was this her choice, or was this jealousy, rearing its ugly head? She loved Francis, she knew, but he had not chosen her.

 

He had chosen Olivia.

 

 _You could come to the countryside for a while_ , Sebastian had told her. _Escape the castle for some fresh air, and no one will suspect anything._

 

Mary had to wonder, though, what the purpose was of her joining him out in the countryside. Was it for her company, her cheerful laughter, her listening ear, or did he invite her for something more? Mary wasn’t a naïve girl, though many of them looked at her as nothing more. She saw the way Sebastian looked at her. His eyes drank in her vision the way a man dying of thirst drank water placed in front of him.

 

Drawing in a deep breath, Mary raised her chin and pushed aside her thoughts for the rest of the journey.

 

The air was fresh and cool, and soon enough the eaves parted and gave way to a beautiful vision of a countryside manor of pale stone edged with vibrant green hedges. White and purple flowers were in bloom all around the estate. Dappled here and there, Mary caught sight of some roses. They were deep red, the color of blood. The sudden thought made her uneasy, and she looked away from them to put her gaze towards the manor instead. It was the first cottage, the one meant for her ladies who were also her closest friends. It was not her last stop, though.

 

She would leave them here with an excuse to visit the locals and grace them with kind words, and none of them would question her.

 

Greer, Aylee, and Lola dismounted their horses all at once, and the guards took the animals to a nearby stable. Mary, however, remained seated upon her horse. It drew the attention of Lola first, who turned to look and furrowed her brow up at Mary from below. Lola’s hand rose to shield her eyes from the sun.

 

“Aren’t you coming?” Lola asked her, her voice laced with confusion. Greer and Aylee were looking at her now, too, and Mary offered her friends all a small but kind smile.

 

“I want to see some of the locals,” Mary lied to them, feeling dreadful for the tale. They were her friends, but she couldn’t share this with them. “If I am to be their queen one day, perhaps I should get to know them.”

 

“Can’t they get to know you _another_ day?” Greer proposed. “We came all the way out here to be together, didn’t we?”

 

Mary smiled brighter. “We are together all the time at the castle,” she said. “I’m sure you can manage a few hours without me.”

 

“You will be back before nightfall?” Lola asked.

 

“It’s dangerous for a woman, you know,” Aylee added. “You aren’t a commoner or a man. Are you taking some of the guards with you?”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Mary said lightly, feeling her heart race a little faster at the mention of guards. They weren’t loyal to her. “We are at peace. There is no war. I won’t go far. Just down the road, I promise.”

 

“You better keep to your promise,” Greer told her, eyeing Mary as she shook her finger at her. Greer ended it with a grin, though, and Mary laughed as she turned her horse away from them.

 

“I will be back soon,” Mary called out, and before the guards took notice of her, she went back onto the path and cut down the road quickly to get out of sight as fast as possible. Sebastian had given her directions on how far to go and what signs to look for along the way. When Mary felt she was at a safe distance away from the manor, she slowed down. Her horse trotted at a leisurely pace until the road forked, and she took the left side path.

 

Eventually, the brush grew thicker and darker around her. It seemed to draw in closer, grabbing at her riding gown and cloak like prickly little fingers from every edge. It appeared as if the tree tops had swallowed whole the sun. Mary had reached her final juncture, though, an old post in the ground, jagged and crude and freshly placed before a faded venue to the right.

 

_You can live somewhere else except for here for a while._

 

Mary suddenly realized she had stopped her horse to stare at the crude post, and so she guided the mare to the path and followed it slowly. This path was worn, but it was grown over, too. It was dark and grey and dead, and when she raised her eyes this time, Mary saw a smaller estate ahead of her placed in the center of a modest field. It was pretty but quaint, though it looked as if someone had not tidied up the grounds since the season had begun.

 

She rode her horse to the front grounds of the small manor house, dismounting as she looked up at it, and tied the mare to a tree. It seemed to be empty, but this far out from the French court, Mary was not sure if looks could be deceiving.

 

Hesitantly, she approached the steps before the door. Her eyes flitted upwards, taking in the vines stretched along the stone, old and wrinkled and taut against the wall. Mary did not even have time to knock on the door, though. As soon as she raised her hand, it opened up, and she drew her hand back, startled.

 

Sebastian stood on the other side. One of his roguish smiles marked his lips. “You made it,” he simply said.

 

Despite her hesitancy, Mary found herself returning an almost shy smile. “Yes,” she said. “Believe it or not, I made it. All on my own, too.”

 

Sebastian stared at her, and then as if he had forgotten himself and remembered, he drew back from the door and opened it up. He even tilted his head in a partial bow. “Your Grace.”

 

“Please,” she said in a pained voice, and he raised his eyes back to hers, “call me Mary.”

 

When he looked at her this time, there was that look again in his eyes. That gaze full of longing, of thirst, of her as the water and his hand as the cup. It seemed to her as if she was looking into a mirror. Startled at her own thoughts, Mary found her breath had caught inside of her throat. _Do I feel the same way, too, when I look at him, and not even know it?_

 

Just the corner of his mouth lifted, and Sebastian slowly raised his head. “Mary,” he said, but in that one word, which was only her name, was too much meaning.

 

She averted her gaze and walked past him into the house. Sebastian closed the door behind her, and the room grew darker. The windows were wide open, and the light of late afternoon shone through the open panels, but still, it wasn’t as bright without the door open as well. It took her eyes some time to adjust to it, and when they had, she turned to look for Sebastian.

 

He was right beside her, holding out his arm. He had not reached out to take it without her permission.

 

A small smile etched its way onto her face, and Mary extended her arm to him. He was always so gentlemanly with her. Sebastian returned the smile, and he led her through the house. They were on the ground floor, and the hallway broke off into many adjacent rooms on either side. After they had passed by a few rooms, Mary realized something about them. She stopped walking abruptly, glancing at Sebastian with the smallest trace of suspicion as Sebastian stopped as well.

 

He turned to look at her, concern in his gaze. “Is everything well?” he asked.

 

Mary opened her mouth to speak and looked away from him at one of the many open doors. “This house is empty,” she observed. “Bash, where is your mother? Is she here?”

 

When Mary looked back at him, Sebastian had a plain look of guilt in his eyes. _He lied to me_ , Mary thought in shock. Bash’s lips drew thinner for a moment, and then he answered her with honesty. “No, she isn’t here.”

 

“Well, where is she?”

 

“She didn’t think it was safe for her to linger,” Sebastian admitted as she scanned his for another lie, and saw none. “She’s already left the country.”

 

Mary narrowed her eyes, not understanding. “Did you _trick_ me,” she accused, “to come here? To be alone with you?”

 

Sebastian was quiet, but his eyes softened as his face fell into a pained expression at her accusation. “I wouldn’t call it a trick,” he said softly. “Maybe a hope. My mother was here. She just didn’t choose to stay.” He stepped closer to her. Her heart, ever stubborn to disobey her, fluttered with the shortened space between them. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Mary,” Sebastian assured her. “I promise you that. Do you believe me?”

 

Mary didn’t realize she was staring into his eyes until she felt his thumb gently grazing along her arm near her elbow. She looked down at their linked arms, at his free hand placed atop hers. She watched his thumb for a moment, noticing he slowed down deliberately with her eyes on him.

 

She raised her gaze back to his face. “Yes,” she finally said. “I believe you.” She could not recall a time where he had lied to her before. Perhaps hid something. Bash had his secrets, but he had never lied to her. She let out a deep breath, and she allowed herself to smile at him.

 

Bash smiled back. Quickly, he drew her towards an open entrance in the hallway and Mary found herself being pulled into a kitchen. It was a large and airy room, and there were two long trestle tables connected end to end in the middle. They were each covered in bowls and unprepared food and flour. Mary stared at them and wondered where the servants were. Were there servants here?

 

“Are you hungry?” Sebastian immediately asked her, letting go of her arm. “We can make something to eat. There’s plenty to choose from.”

 

“ . . . _We?_ ” Mary asked unsurely, glancing over at him in disbelief. She shook her head. “Bash, I don’t know how to cook.”

 

Sebastian grinned at her, and she swore there was mischievousness in his gaze. He took her by the arm once more and quickly drew her towards the edge of the table as Mary’s eyes widened at the prospect of actually _cooking_ something. She had been taught a few things by the nuns when it came to preparing simple foods, and she had been taught how to milk a goat as well, but never had she created an actual meal herself before. Mary looked at him hesitantly, but when Sebastian looked back, he had never appeared more certain than he did in that moment as he smiled at her. He leaned in close, the smile never leaving his lips.

 

“I’ll show you,” Bash told her.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

 

Mary went to remove the riding cloak from her shoulders, fingertips unfastening the brooch that held it firmly in place around her neck, but Bash stepped closer and held out his hands near her shoulders. They hovered in the air a few inches away from her.

 

“Allow me,” he said, looking straight at her, and Mary smiled softly and nodded her head. She turned around and allowed Bash to take the riding cloak from her shoulders, not failing to notice the way his hands lingered for a moment before he drew them away with the cloak. Mary glanced down at her hands, tugging on the fingertips of her gloves to remove those as well. The supple leather slipped off easily, and before she could place them down, Sebastian’s hands had touched hers and taken those from her grasp as well.

 

Mary looked up, their eyes catching. Sebastian stared for a moment, but then the corner of his mouth quirked upward. He turned away from her and walked over to a small table in the corner by the door, placing her gloves upon it and hanging her cloak on a peg in the wall by the door to the kitchen. Mary turned away from Bash to look down at the trestle table before her, and she rested her fingers upon the rough texture of the aged wooden surface. As she dragged her fingers along it, her brow furrowed as she thought about the nuns cooking meals back at the convent. Mary wondered if she could repeat what she had seen them do from memory.

 

“We’ll start simple,” Bash said, his voice cutting into her thoughts. “We’ll make some bread. Bread is easy enough, isn’t it?”

 

Mary gave Sebastian a look as he came around the table to the left of her. He had that cheeky tone of voice again, and his eyes were twinkling with amusement as he regarded her. Sebastian placed his palms against the table, leaning forward.

 

“Well, for bread,” Mary began, feeling a little silly, “we’ll need . . . flour.”

 

Bash snorted, holding back his laughter as he lowered his head.

 

Mary’s indignation rose. “You’re _laughing_ at me,” she accused.

 

“You don’t know how to make bread, Mary?” Bash asked, lifting his head. He was grinning at this point and trying so hard not to laugh further.

 

“I . . . I can milk a goat,” Mary offered helplessly.

 

Bash did not hold back. He burst into laughter until his cheeks were red and his sides were hurting, and all the while Mary stood there crossly, glaring at him. He quieted down and stepped around the table to come up behind her. Mary tensed all over as she felt Sebastian’s presence so close to her from behind, though it was not necessarily in a bad way. There was strange sort of tingling pleasantness that touched her nerves when he was near her, and she liked it. Mary could admit it to herself, even if she couldn’t admit it out loud—or wouldn’t admit it out loud.

 

“I’ll show you how,” he said. “It’s easy, and that way, if there’s ever an uprising and you have to flee, you’ll at least be able to make some bread to eat.”

 

Sebastian gathered the ingredients, telling her each of them one by one and how much she needed of each. Mary listened intently as he spoke. She was focused on learning and remembering it all. Sebastian told her what to do, and Mary did the task instead of him. After all, it was only way she was going to remember any of it. When she began kneading the bread, Sebastian stepped from her side where he had been watching her to stand behind her instead.

 

“No,” he said close to her ear, “you’re doing it wrong. Let me show you.” Bash stood directly behind her, raising his arms on either side of her. His body pressed against her back, reaching out for the bread. “Watch my hands,” he added softly.

 

Mary watched them, but her focus was drawn away with him pressed so close to her. He was tall and warm, and he smelled of spice and grass. Sebastian didn’t even seem to think anything of their closeness, though, and then he let go of the dough and took her by the hands. Mary, without needing to be told, followed his lead once more.

 

“Tell me, Sebastian,” she said, trying to take her mind off their awkward position against the table, “where did you learn to make bread?”

 

“My mother,” he revealed. “Her family, that is. We visited them a lot when I was younger.”

 

“Seems a strange thing for king’s son to learn,” Mary added nonchalantly.

 

“Not really,” Bash said, and he moved his hands from the dough to her wrists. They rested there, lightly on her skin. “I’m a bastard. It’s not so strange for me. We have to learn a lot of things to get by.”

 

“Illegitimate sons, you mean?”

 

Bash leaned close to Mary’s ear. “Bastards,” he whispered. He pulled back. “You can say the word, Mary. It doesn’t offend me. I know what I am.”

 

Mary stopped kneading the bread all of a sudden, falling still.

 

“Bash, why am I here?” Mary asked. The thought had been lingering in the back of her mind ever since he had escorted her to the kitchen. When he had made his proposition to her, he had kissed her, but he made no move to kiss her again. He stood so close to her, a hair’s breadth away, the fabric of their clothes brushing, but he was helping her to make bread. Sebastian was not kissing her or touching her, except to lay his flour-stained hands against hers.

 

He stilled behind her as well. “What?” he asked. He sounded taken aback by her question.

 

“I didn’t come here to make bread, did I?”

 

Once she had said it, Mary knew there was no going back. She had spoken aloud the words that were inside both of their heads. Their reasons for this were not to play at homemaking. His thumbs, covered in flour, ran across the sensitive skin between her thumbs and wrists. They were both quiet for a time as they stood there together. Maybe he had just been waiting for her to say it.

 

Maybe he had wanted to hear her say it first.

 

Sebastian rested his body against her back. He leaned his head next to hers. She could feel his breath against her ear, and it tickled. “What did you come here for, Mary?” he asked her quietly. There was no teasing to his tone. It was a genuine question. He had posed the idea, but she had come, so why did she come?

 

Mary closed her eyes, leaning the back of her head against his chest. His hands rose up along her forearms, up the long sleeves of her gown. She had rolled them up for kneading the dough. Mary knew she would have flour on her skin and all over her dress by the time he was done touching her, but at the moment, she just couldn’t bring herself to care.

 

Opening her eyes once more, Mary turned around in his embrace. She placed her hands upon his chest and looked up at him. Sebastian gazed down at her with that familiar look of longing in his eyes. The way he gazed at her was more than just wanting, though. He cared very much for her because there was a softness in his eyes that said he would be broken if something happened to her. Bash lifted a hand to her face, stroking his thumb against her cheek. Mary felt the flour leave a mark.

 

Whatever he had done, however he had done it, Sebastian had done it for her to keep her safe. She knew that now. He wasn’t a merciless killer. Sebastian had his reasons, and he had made the sacrifice for her. She wanted to ask him about it, to find out more, but his palm was touching her cheek now and the close proximity was clouding her mind.

 

Out loud, she gave no answer, but she reached up and kissed him. Slipping her hand behind his neck, Mary drew him down to her level. Sebastian leaned easily into the kiss, parting his lips against hers. She felt his hand flat against her cheek, soft and warm but powdery from the flour. His other arm wrapped around her back and pulled her closer. Kissing him was so different from kissing Francis. _He’s not Francis_ , Mary reminded herself.

 

She knew it. She could tell in the way Sebastian held her face, the way he tried to be slow and gentle, and yet there was firmness in his touch and urgency behind his actions. She opened her mouth against his, and Sebastian deepened the kiss, a low hum in the back of his throat.

 

Mary slipped against the table, but he caught her with his hand on her hip. Their mouths had parted from one another during the sudden movement. Mary felt his hot breath, short and unsteady, wash over her lips.

 

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low.

 

Mary closed her eyes, nodding her head. When she opened them again, Bash was still staring at her. She felt his fingers graze her cheek as he gazed upon her, eyes roving over her features without blinking. Mary reached up to touch the side of his face as well, stroking his cheek.

 

“You don’t have to stop,” she told him as she looked into his eyes, wondering in shock at where the words had even come from. They had slipped unbidden from her throat, and his eyes seemed to darken partly from confusion and partly from something else.

 

Sebastian drew her into another kiss without speaking, though. This time his lips were more insistent than before, and Mary found herself scrambling to keep up with him, feeling every fiber of her being come alight with fire. She leaned into the table, trying to lift herself onto it to sit instead of stand. Bash slipped his hand lower on her body and hoisted her onto the table, knocking bowls and plates and cups out of the way. The items rolled across the table, some of them falling onto the floor.

 

Their kisses grew more urgent, never relenting. Mary found herself, much to her shock and unawareness, with her legs on either side of Bash’s body as he leaned into her, holding the back of her head close to him as their lips moved in union together. There was a voice in the back of her mind, which tried to warn her, but Mary ignored it and pushed it aside.

 

His free hand began to roam over her clothes to touch her body as his other hand held her mouth close to his from behind her neck. She felt Bash’s hand slide over the curve of her breast, down her side, and along her hip, and then it trailed up from her lower back to her shoulders again. He touched her everywhere he could touch, and Mary let him. His hand paused between them, and then she felt him pull at the fastenings of her gown in the front as they continued to kiss.

 

Mary opened her eyes. She thought to stop him, but instead her hands betrayed her. They came up between them to help Sebastian undo the fastenings, and the gown came undone to reveal her dark red chemise beneath it. Bash continued to kiss her lips, but his mouth soon trailed away from those to make its way down her chin and neck, to her collarbone. His hand grazed against the neckline of her chemise, and his fingers curled beneath the edge of the fabric.

 

Sebastian paused, though, as her chest heaved beneath him.

 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked her, and he lifted his eyes but not his head. Mary breathed harder at the sight of his face so close to her chest. He was asking her permission.

 

Quickly, Mary shook her head. “No,” she said.

 

He descended upon her chest, pulling her chemise out of the way. Mary felt the sparks of fear and lust at the same time, and it caused her heart to skip a beat and then another. She was anxious because Sebastian wasn’t Francis, and something felt wrong about that. She was _supposed_ to be with Francis. Francis was the one she was engaged to marry. Francis was the one she had been told since her youth was her destiny, but what if it was all just words?

 

 _Just words_ , Mary thought to herself, closing her eyes as Sebastian’s lips found her breast. They were just words told to her over and over again until they became a mantra in her head, a belief system. Francis had been her mother’s choice, not her choice. _Not my choice_. _I hadn’t been given one_. Mary wanted it to be her decision for once, and not someone else’s. No one had pushed her towards Sebastian. No one had signed a marriage contract between her and Sebastian when they were just children. No one had told her Sebastian was to be her destiny, and yet somehow Mary had found herself drawn to him all the same.

 

Feeling her nerves calm down from the fear, Mary slowly laid herself upon the table. Sebastian stopped in his attentions to her. He was bent over her, staring as if he was trying to figure out what was next. Mary saw him swallow, the apple in his throat moving up and down. She wondered what he was thinking, and then he lowered himself, pulling away from her. Frowning, Mary lifted her head from the table.

 

He was out of sight, but she felt his hands beneath her gown. Mary’s eyes went wide, and her breathing quickened again. “Bash, what are you—”

 

His lips against her thigh silenced her. She clenched her hands against the table, nails scraping against the wood. He was gentle and soft, and every touch of his lips against her skin caused an aching to rush into her. Her whole body felt tense at first, but Mary soon found herself relaxing as Bash kissed her along her inner thigh. His hair tickled her skin.

 

She felt his fingers curl beneath her undergarments to pull them down and out of the way. When they were gone, he placed her legs on either side of his shoulders. Mary had no idea what this was. She had never heard of it before. She had barely known what to expect in the marriage bed aside from a vague description given to her by her elders until she, Aylee, Lola, Kenna, and Greer had witnessed the bedding of Francis’ sister on her wedding night—

 

—and then his mouth was _there_. Mary’s mouth fell open as she stared up at the ceiling, wishing she could see his face instead, but he was under her dress and he was doing things to her that were so far away from what she had witnessed that night of the bedding. Mary thought it should feel dirty, but it felt _good_ , and a sigh escaped her lips against her better judgment. At the sound of her sigh, Sebastian dug his fingers into her thighs as he held her, and the attention of his mouth on her had become more eager to taste her.

 

Mary called out, her nails digging into the crevices of the wood again. Allowing herself to feel it all was easier said than done because she was nervous, but Bash ran his hand along one of her legs, and the tingles loosened her up. The trail of his hand left a fine powder along her skin. He still had some flour on his hands. Mary closed her eyes again, giving into the sensations of Sebastian’s tongue and lips upon her until an unfamiliar quiver passed through her lower body.

 

The sensation grew stronger as he became more ardent than before. Mary called out again, quaking as the tremors took over with a pulse deep within. Sebastian knew what he was doing, whatever he was doing, because by the time she had finished calling out to the ceiling, her chest was heaving, her muscles were still shivering from the aftershocks, and her body felt light and euphoric all over from head to toe.

 

She felt his lips on her thigh again, kissing her softly. The room seemed a bit of a blur from where she lay on the table, and she felt Sebastian leave her from below. He stood above her, and very gently, scooped his arm behind her back and lifted her from the table until she was sitting upright again. Mary wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him. He seemed surprised, but he held her back, resting his head against hers.

 

“I need a bath,” Mary suddenly said, as it was the only coherent thing she could think to say.

 

“What?” Bash asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

 

“I’m covered in flour,” she answered him, “and so are you.”

 

Bash was quiet for a moment. Mary could feel his hand passing over her hair as he held her close. “I could draw a bath,” he said softly. “There’s a tub upstairs. It might take some time to heat up water for it, though.”

 

“I can wait,” Mary said, pulling away from him slightly to look him in the eyes.

 

Bash smiled at her, moving his hand to comb a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He leaned forward to kiss her lightly on the lips, and Mary was shocked at the taste of herself there. It was strange, alluring, and exciting. When he pulled away from her, Mary watched Bash leave to go to do whatever he had to do to prepare a bath for her.

 

As she sat there on the table, she brought her fingers to her lips. There was some disbelief at herself for her actions, but first and foremost on her mind, she looked a fright. Mary could see flour stains all over her gown, covering her from head to toe likely because of the table as well as Bash’s hands. She tugged nervously on her braided hair and slipped off of the table onto her feet.

 

Blushing at the sight of her undergarments on the floor, Mary scooped them up and put them with her riding clock for now. There was no point in putting them back on immediately when she needed a bath to wash the flour from her skin. It would only get them dirty further, even if she felt like a scandal to walk around without them on for now.

 

Mary left the kitchen and went upstairs, finding a bedroom with a closet. There were a few very old things inside of it, but not much to choose from. Mary found an old robe hanging up, crimson and brown in color, and began to strip the rest of her garments off of her body and place them aside on a chair nearby. Slipping into the robe, Mary wrapped it about her body and tied it tight.

 

She sat down on the edge of the bed, and there she waited until Sebastian would come for her when the bath was ready.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

 

Mary felt a hand gently lay itself upon her shoulder, and a familiar voice called to her from beyond the haze in her mind.

 

She opened her eyes to see a blurry visage before her. When she blinked to bring it into focus, she recognized Bash just above her. He was standing beside the bed, leaning over her with his hand on her shoulder. He smiled at her softly when she came awake, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the gesture.

 

“You fell asleep,” he said.

 

“Oh,” Mary replied dumbly, pushing herself to sit upright. Bash drew back from her as she went to straighten her gown, but then she realized she wasn’t wearing one anymore. Instead, she was clothed in nothing more than a robe, and her face felt hot. Mary wrapped her arms around herself, acting as though her nudity was more personal than what had occurred between them earlier.

 

Mary froze as it all came flooding back to her. Their intimacy on a kitchen table of all things. She swallowed past a hard catch in her throat, her cheeks burning hotter, but it was not for a memory of shame. She had _liked_ what they had done—or what he had done for her. Mary had done little else but lay back and let him do it.

 

“The bath water is ready,” Sebastian told her, pulling her from her thoughts. “It’s hot, so don’t wait too long or it’ll be cold.”

 

He was smiling when she looked at him. Mary felt the corner of her mouth quirk upward as well. “All right,” she answered him, holding out her hand. “Will you help me up, Bash?”

 

For a moment, he didn’t reach for her hand, but then he held it out to her to take her proffered one. His fingers felt surprisingly soft. “Where is it?”

 

“I’ll show you,” he said, always her guide. His hand closed gently around hers, and he led her out into the hallway. There was an open door near the end of the hall on the right side. The hall turned right, continuing on, but Sebastian took her inside of the room with the open door. Steam rose into the air from the hot bath water, looking so soothing and inviting to Mary.

 

Promptly, she thought of removing the robe to get into the tub until she realized she was still holding Bash’s hand and he was still standing beside her. Bash had taken off his coat, but his clothes were still stained with flour as well. She looked him over as he stood beside her, her eyes rising to meet his when he turned to look at her.

 

A puzzling appearance filled his bright eyes as he tilted his head to the side. “Is something wrong, Mary?” he asked her.

 

Mary opened her mouth to speak, finding her throat dry. “No,” she said, shaking her head, “not at all.”

 

She let go of his hand, feeling instantly colder.

 

She waited to see if he would leave, but Bash still stood there, silent and waiting. _Waiting for what?_ Mary thought, her forehead creasing.

 

Finally, Sebastian seemed to remember himself. He drew in a deep breath beside her. “I will you alone. If you need anything, just call for me.” He turned around to leave, walking towards the door.

 

All it took was that single moment of hesitation.

 

“Wait,” Mary called, turning around to look at him.

 

Sebastian froze at the door, his hand resting on the wooden frame. His back was to her, but Mary could see the way his back moved as he breathed in deeply. He turned his head slightly to the right, looking but not looking, and then he turned around completely to face her. His eyes were pained, though, shining in the dim candlelight.

 

“Yes?” he asked.

 

“Will you stay?” Mary proposed, feeling her throat clench up at the request. It was such a bold move, and it made her heart beat faster. “You’re dirty as well,” she added quickly, glancing over his body. “You must get clean, and if you wait until later, the water will have grown cold.”

 

Sebastian stared at her. His expression did not change, except that a slow look of astonishment seemed to make its way onto his face. “Is that wise, Mary?”

 

Mary’s chin rose higher. “Is any of this wise?”

 

She was bold indeed.

 

She saw his jaw tighten, but it wasn’t out of anger. Nervousness was more like it. Sebastian slowly closed the door, even though they were alone in the house, and carefully crossed the distance back to her. He stood before her for a moment with neither of them saying anything until he reached for the hem of his shirt without breaking eye contact with her. Mary felt her heart flutter as he took off his shirt and let it fall to the floor at their feet.

 

Unable to stop herself, she let her eyes fall to his chest. Sebastian’s hands went to his belt, undoing the buckle, and Mary found her eyes drawn to his hands. Bash unfastened his pants, and those fell to the floor as well. Mary got a glimpse of his nude body and what lay beneath his clothes, her face flushing with heat at the sight of him, before he stepped out of his pants and moved closer to Mary.

 

She could _hear_ the pounding of her heart. It was in her ears as Sebastian leaned towards her, his arms going over her shoulders as his hands took her braid into his grasp. Gently, he pulled her braid loose, undoing her hair. With each slide of his fingers, he undid the knots and twists until her hair was falling loosely over her back. He combed his fingers through it, smoothing it out and pulling it over her shoulders.

 

His hand came up to the side of her face, his fingers gently brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You’ll want your hair down,” Bash said, his voice low and soft. “There’s flour in your hair.”

 

A nervous laugh bubbled up in Mary’s throat. “Yes,” she replied, smiling. “It’s much different than having flowers in my hair.”

 

Mary saw his jaw clench again, moving behind his cheeks. His eyes were a flood when she looked into them; a flood of emotions, looking to spill over. “I like this better,” Bash told her quietly. His hand brushed along the side of her cheek with the back of his fingers.

 

He was so close, and his breath was warm against her skin. Mary closed her eyes and leaned nearer to him, bringing her lips to his for a kiss. She had wanted to kiss him again despite everything in the back of her mind that should have been telling her this was a bad idea, but it was silent, and in the silence Mary could feel his arms around her as Bash drew her closer and returned the kiss. His hand came up to cup her face, to hold her as he always held her when he kissed her. He was so gentle with her, so kind.

 

Their lips parted from each other, and Mary felt Bash press his forehead to hers. His hand slid down her cheek to her chin, grazing her jaw line, before it fell to her neck and trailed a delicate pattern along her bare skin. Goose bumps rose on Mary’s arms, and she tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck to him.

 

His fingers made idle loops over her skin, and then he brought his hand down to the collar of her robe. He laid his hand against it, but he didn’t try to remove it.

 

“You ought to get undressed,” Bash murmured, “if you mean to bathe.”

 

Mary still had the grace to feel self-conscious. “Turn around,” she whispered.

 

His nose wrinkled, a look of amusement passing over his face. “You want me to bathe with you, and yet you’re asking me to turn around as you disrobe?”

 

Her eyes were pleading with him. “Please,” Mary asked softly.

 

Sebastian sighed, but he pulled his hand away from Mary and turned around to give her some privacy. Mary stared at his back with her mouth half open, the flex of his muscles as he moved catching her eye. Tearing her gaze away from him, she turned her back to him and peeled the robe from her shoulders. Mary let it tumble to the floor to join the rest of Bash’s clothes, and then she walked slowly towards the tub.

 

The water was hot when she submerged her foot first. Not a moment later, she was in the water, sinking deep. She glanced over at Sebastian, who was already looking her way again, his piercing gaze intense. She froze, lowering her chin as she stared at him. Half of her hair was in the water, heavy and wet, and she felt it as she moved her head.

 

Mary thought about asking him if he had been looking at her as she entered the tub, but the answer was written all over his face. Sebastian didn’t ask her to look away as he approached the tub, though Mary lowered her gaze when he slid into the water. It sloshed at his presence, but he occupied the other side and gave her breadth by keeping empty space between them. Still, he kept his eyes on her.

 

She reached for a bar of soap that hung in a little basket beside the tub, lathering it between her hands. “Bash,” Mary began, “there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

 

“What is it?”

 

Mary hesitated, her hands stilling as she scrubbed at the soap. It was about the Blood Wood. It wasn’t the real name of the forest, but it was name it had come to earn in recent times. Mary wasn’t sure what the real name of it was anymore. She couldn’t remember it.

 

“What did you do that night?” she asked him, her voice too soft. “When you left? You came back the next morning, and you said the debt had been paid, but you never said what you had done.”

 

Bash was quiet. “It doesn’t matter,” he answered her. “You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”

 

“No,” Mary disagreed. “I want to know.” She looked up at him. “I want to know what you did.”

 

Sebastian gazed at her from across the tub. He was quiet at first. Finally, shifting in the water, he moved towards her and took the soap from her hands. Mary was startled as he settled beside her, placing his free hand on the back of her head.

 

“You should dip your head in the water,” he said. “Here, I’ll hold you.”

 

“If I do it, will you tell me?” Mary asked.

 

“I might.”

 

Sighing softly, Mary lowered herself into the water with Bash’s hand on the back of her head. He held her, guiding her, as she went down into the water. She kept her face above it, though, while submerging her hair. Bash was looking down at her, but not at her face. His eyes were on her body, admiring it beneath the glaze of rippling water.

 

Mary moved to sit up again, and Bash helped her. His hand never left her. When she was upright, Bash was almost but not quite behind her. Her arm brushed the center of his chest. She felt his hands in her hair, and it took her a moment before she realized he was washing it for her.

 

“I took a thief out into the woods,” Bash began, talking slowly as he scrubbed the soap in her hair and carefully worked out any tangles. “I strung him up by his feet, and then I waited. When the Blood Priest showed up, I asked if any human sacrifice would do, even that poor wretch. He said any would do, so I chose him instead. I fought him in the woods until I cut him down, and then I drove my sword through him.”

 

Mary was still in the water. She felt it lapping at her arms. Sebastian’s hands had worked their way up to her scalp, and the tingle it brought soothed her fears.

 

“Francis told me the debt was human sacrifice,” Mary answered, feeling a little bit better now that she knew Sebastian hadn’t killed a poor innocent soul because of her. Even so, she hadn’t felt obliged to judge him but in moments of doubt.

 

“He was right,” Sebastian admitted after a moment of silence, but his voice had grown quieter than before.

 

Mary realized that he had done what he had done to protect her, and that was all there was to it. Sebastian had done what was necessary as he always had done.

 

She recalled all the times when Bash had risked himself for her. He had gone in the woods to find her dog, even though they were dangerous. He had ridden out and been ambushed in an attempt to send troops to her country as the English were invading. He had paid the debt to save her life. Together, with his brother, Francis, they had both killed Tomas in an effort to protect her as well.

 

He had done so much, and he had done it all for her.

 

Sebastian placed his hand on the back of her head again. “Ready?” he asked, and she nodded her head. Mary submerged herself again, feeling his hand rinse her hair clean of the soap as the bubbles passed by her ears. She opened her eyes to look up at him, but he wasn’t gazing at her this time. Sebastian was focused only on cleaning her hair.

 

Mary rose when he was done, turning in the water slightly to look at him. “Bash, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked him. “I would have understood. I wouldn’t have judged you. I knew why you did it, even then. Francis should not have said those things to you. It wasn’t right.”

 

Sebastian’s expression was pained once more, his jaw drawn tight. His eyes were full of so much emotion, scattering across the surface too quickly for her to read them all. “I was scared,” he confessed.

 

Mary turned around to face him fully, the water sloshing around them. She was puzzled at his admittance. “Scared of what? Of me?”

 

He swallowed past a catch in his throat. “Of frightening you.”

 

Mary felt something inside of her heart ache. She reached out for him, disturbing the water in the tub. Sebastian looked surprised when her hand cupped his cheek and her thumb caressed his skin. Mary leaned in to kiss Sebastian on the mouth, and he accepted it with parted lips. His arms came up around her to draw her to him as Mary’s hardened nipples grazed his chest. She moaned softly in the back of her throat, and Sebastian groaned in reply. He pulled her closer until she was flush against him, and Mary heard the water spill over the edge of the tub.

 

It was slow and torturous, and they never rushed their kisses or their touching. He ran his hand over her back, her shoulder blades, and her neck, leaving a trial of fire in his wake. Mary found herself holding onto both sides of his face, kissing him more deeply, and then she pulled away to nip at his lip. Bash groaned with a mild frustration at her attentions each time she pulled away. He tried to pull her back, but Mary kissed his jaw and then his neck, and he fisted his hands loosely in her hair as she worked her way down to his chest with her lips.

 

“Mary,” Bash murmured.

 

“Yes?” she asked in a low voice, kissing the clean skin of his chest. Feeling bold, she drew her tongue along his collarbone, issuing a shaky sigh from within him.

 

“I just like saying your name,” Bash admitted with small groan of laughter.

 

She glanced up at him with just her eyes. “Shall I give you a better reason to say it?”

 

His eyes darkened. “What do you mean?”

 

Mary found herself settling into Bash’s lap, and her hand slid down his chest into the water. She guided it lower down his body, down his abdomen. Mary found him easily enough because he was already hard to the touch. She knew of this mostly because of Kenna’s whispered secrets, but she had never touched a man in this manner before. When she glanced at his eyes again, Sebastian looked just as surprised as she felt, but his intense gaze didn’t break from hers.

 

Wrapping her hand around his base, which earned her a sharp hiss from Bash’s lips, Mary slowly began to work her hand up and down along his length under the water. Bash let his eyes drift close, his head tilting back against the rim of the tub. “Mary,” he said, speaking to the ceiling like her name was some whispered prayer to God.

 

She leaned forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, and Sebastian lifted his head. He turned to catch her lips in another kiss, reaching out to hold her cheek again. They deepened the kiss as Mary involuntarily quickened her hand, and Sebastian groaned deeper than before, his hand tightening on Mary. She circled her hand around his hardness as she moved her fingers and palm up and down, and then she swiped her thumb over the tip. Kenna had told her about that, too. _Men really like that_ , she had said.

 

Their lips broke suddenly. “Mary,” Bash breathed out, and he dove in to kiss her again. “ _Mary_.” He nipped at her lower lip, surprising her, and she nipped back. Bash wrapped his arms around her body pulled her close to him, holding her tightly as she moved her hand with a quicker pace along his length. Mary felt his hand clench against her back. Her whole body felt alive with sparks to do this for him, but it was good and so nice because he kissed her and touched her and said her name like a prayer each time he spoke it.

 

A strangled moan caught in his throat, and Mary felt his muscles jerk in response to her ministrations. She drew her hand down to the tip of his shaft, pleasuring him with short and quick strokes until he dug his dull fingernails into her back and called out. It wasn’t loud, not like hers, but it was a sound of completion. She slowed her hand, caressing him with soft, light strokes until Sebastian slumped against the side of the tub beneath her.

 

His hand reached up to her hair, holding the back of it. “Mary,” Bash said, and she smiled at the way he said her name. She settled herself lower into the water, leaning herself against his chest. He pulled her close, his arm encircling her, and she rested her head just below her chin.

 

“Do you feel clean now?” Mary ventured to ask. A small smile curled up the corner of her lips.

 

Sebastian was breathing deeply but slowly. “Well, with your hands to rub me down . . . ”

 

Mary pulled back from him and popped him lightly on the chest. “Sebastian!”

 

He was grinning at her, though, his head still tilted back against the rim of the tub. His eyes were twinkling. “You asked,” he said.

 

“Always so _cheeky_ ,” Mary told him, but she couldn’t push the grin from her own face. He knew she wasn’t mad with him.

 

Sebastian gazed at her, and she saw something deeper in his eyes for a moment, but she wasn’t given much time to look. He reached out for her face and drew her to his lips once more, sealing them with another kiss. This one was slow and burning, and it felt better with their bodies pressed so flush against one another.

 

“I am glad you came, Mary,” Sebastian murmured when their lips broke apart, and Mary settled herself against his chest again, laying her head just below his chin as her hand cupped his shoulder.

 

 _I don’t ever want to go back_ , she thought.

 

But she knew, with an indefinite pull of sadness, that she would one day have to.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

 

The fire crackled with little snaps and pops, a soothing sound for Mary’s ears, as she sat on the lounge with Sebastian, wrapped in nothing but the bathrobe, with her head resting upon his shoulder and her legs arched over his legs. She wasn’t sitting in his lap, so it wasn’t entirely inappropriate, but Sebastian had placed his hand on her knee. His other arm was wound around Mary’s shoulders, his other hand holding her head gently to him. Occasionally, he stroked her hair with his finger, tracing it so lightly through the strands that Mary felt her scalp tingle in response and a shiver run down her neck to her spine, spreading throughout her back.

 

Her hair was dry, and so was his. When they had gotten out of the tub, they had both dried off separately. Mary had tried to hide herself as best as possible, but through the curtain of her hair, she had caught Sebastian looking at her from the corner of her eyes. Though it had made her blush to see it, Mary had refused to say anything out loud about it. She supposed she was meant to feel scandalized by his eyes roving over her nakedness, but Mary had only felt a peak of interest surge through her, a rush of pleasure between her legs, and a bit of pride to have him look at her in such a way.

 

It was exciting, she had realized.

 

Mary had put her robe back on as Sebastian wrapped a towel around his waist, and then she had watched as he left washroom to find clean clothes. Mary hadn’t wanted to put those messy clothes of hers back on either, and so she had gone to the kitchen to try to wipe the flour off of them, but it wouldn’t come all the way out. Sebastian had found her there, and he had laughed softly at her. He took her by the hand and told her not to worry about it, that he would see to her clothes later, and Mary smiled gently back at him and allowed him to guide her from the room.

 

Sebastian had taken her to the drawing room after that, with her still wrapped in nothing but her borrowed robe, and led her to the lounge in the center. Mary had gazed on as Sebastian kneeled before the fireplace and kindled a fire to warm up the room, and then he had joined her on the lounge.

 

They had been talking to each other for some time, and the sun had set beyond the windows. It was night, too late to go back to the manor now, but Bash’s hand in her hair was doing things to her mind to make her not care about punctuality and propriety. She just wanted to stay like this beside him and fall asleep, warm, safe, and loved in ways she had never felt back at the castle with Francis. For one moment in the past, she might have felt such a way, but it seemed like a dream on a cloud instead of an actual memory.

 

“It’s dark outside,” Mary said idly, her fingers brushing along the loose collar on Bash’s tunic. The laces were undone, and she could see just the edge of his chest hair.

 

She felt his thumb graze her knee in response.

 

“Yes,” Bash agreed, “it’s dark outside.” He turned to look at her. “Which doesn’t look like you’ll be getting back anytime soon.”

 

Mary raised her eyes to meet his. “No,” she said in a whisper, “not unless I plan to travel unsafely in the night.”

 

She saw Bash swallow, the apple in his throat moving slowly up and down. He removed his hand from her knee and reached out to touch her cheek. His thumb grazed her skin just below her eye, and Mary allowed her eyelids to flutter to a close.

 

“I wouldn’t let my lady do that,” Bash responded, scooting closer to her. The tips of his fingers moved back into her hair as he leaned in close to her mouth. “That would be unwise,” he whispered back, his breath washing over her lips. “Danger lurks in the woods.”

 

Instinctively, Mary parted her lips. Sebastian’s thumb caressed against the lower one as his nose brushed hers. He was close enough to kiss. “Danger lurks here,” she murmured back. “If Francis knew . . . ”

 

Sebastian paused, his thumb stilling against her lip. “Do you want me to stop?”

 

Mary opened her eyes. She was looking right into his face, though he didn’t look afraid of a possible punishment that he might face for his actions. Sebastian only looked hurt. Hurt that she might ask him to withdraw from her or leave her be, and he would if she asked. She saw it in his eyes. He would stop if she asked him to, but inside, it would tear him apart.

 

Even when she thought of Francis and Olivia, the pain had begun to fade. As she thought about it further, she realized she wasn’t here because of Francis. She did not want to get payback on him. She did not want to hurt him and then go back to his arms.

 

Instead, Mary sat here, half on the lounge and halfway in Bash’s lap, content and calm, with nowhere else that she would rather be. Smiling softly, she leaned her face against his palm as she looked at him, and Mary kissed the tip of his thumb. Her smile, as well as her kiss, softened his own expression. Bash was noble and true and more honest than his brother, Francis, and his touch was full of love.

 

For her, and only her.

 

Slowly, she swallowed past a building lump in her throat. Mary shook her head. “No,” she answered him, “please don’t stop.”

 

Bash looked down at her lips, and before she could tell him to kiss her again, he captured her lips with his and leaned into her. Mary had to reach up to hold him by the back of his neck to stay steady or else she would have fallen back, and she parted her lips to let him go further, to deepen the kiss. Bash did, the warmth of his mouth mingling with hers as the fire crackled on around them. It was hot in the room, and Mary felt the heat all over. The touch of Bash’s tongue to hers sent pleasurable shocks throughout her, but he was slow and careful.

 

Still, she felt the passion behind his touches and his kisses. Slow they might have been, but it was not for lack of want.

 

His other hand lowered itself on her back, and before Mary knew it, she found herself lying down against the lounge with Bash above her. He knelt between her legs and kissed her lips, his hand still holding the side of her face. As his kisses picked up in urgency and passion, Mary found herself gasping for air as he left her mouth to trial his way down her jaw. Bash kissed the side just below her ear, causing a shiver to run through her nerves, and then he kissed his way down her neck as his other hand pulled the belt free on her robe.

 

He might have had on clothes, but Mary was still naked beneath her robe, a thing she became conscious of as his hand slid underneath the fabric to slide over the soft skin of her stomach. Mary tilted her head back into the cushions, turning her head to gaze at the fire, but she had also turned into Bash’s hand as well, and Mary found herself kissing his thumb as his lips grazed her collarbone, followed by a slow lick of his tongue.

 

Mary arched her back, rising against him, and Bash parted her robe, exposing her bare skin to the air and his eyes as they roved over all of her. She ought to have felt as naked as she was, but instead, she only felt more desirous with the way he looked at her. Mary felt a soft moan rise out of her throat, and Bash looked up at her for just a moment before he descended on her chest, taking a nipple into his mouth as he closed his lips over her breast.

 

Mary arched into him once more, unable to stop the sounds that came as a result of his actions.

 

Not even a moment later, she felt his hand between her legs, his fingers dipping in between that intimate place right at her center, igniting a fire within her. Bash coated his fingers with her natural wetness, and then he moved them in a circle over her clit, slowly kissing her breast as Mary turned her head to look up at the ceiling. She closed her eyes, her mouth wide open, her breathing growing deep as he paid attention to her body like he was worshipping it.

 

She widened her legs, her nerves gently shaking, as Bash applied more pressure with his hand against her clit. His thumb grazed over it, drawing a shudder from her, and then he was using nothing but his thumb against her, rubbing quickly. Mary felt her legs clench, her feet seize up, her toes curl under, and Bash rose up to kiss her on the mouth again, deepening the kiss with his tongue, as his finger slipped lower and between her sex again.

 

Mary had never felt such a thing before, so when he pushed at her entrance, she gasped as panic set it and grasped hard onto the back of his neck. “Bash, wait—”

 

Bash paused, always faithful to her command, but his lips against hers kissed her softly in response. “It’s only my hand,” he murmured in assurance. His lips took a trail across her cheek, remaining gentle. “Have you ever done this to yourself before?” he asked, so close to her ear that it sent shivers through her neck.

 

“No,” Mary admitted shakily. She had never touched herself before. It had never occurred to her to do so, even though she had heard of it from Kenna.

 

“Would you like me to do it for you?” he asked beside her ear.

 

Mary wondered if she should say no and stop this now before it went too far, but her legs only parted further to allow him more access as her hips rolled into his hand. “Yes,” she whispered, “yes, please.”

 

Bash trailed his lips back along to her jaw until he reached her mouth again, and then he captured her lips with his. Mary lifted herself up to meet him, her hand on the back of his neck to help her rise, and he slipped his finger inside of her. A broken moan escaped her throat, drowned between their lips, and then he slowly began to move it inside of her.

 

Mary wasn’t sure what she expected, but the depth of her desire ran further than before, and she refused to let him go, to stop kissing him, as he pleasured her on the lounge, his body hovering above hers as he knelt between her legs. Wrapping her legs around him, Mary wondered if this was how consummation felt, when a husband or a lover filled her and made love to her.

 

Bash continued to kiss her as well, relishing the taste and touch of her lips on his, and his finger slipped out of her to allow him to rub his hand in circles over her clit again. Her body responded shakily towards him, both of her hands reaching up behind his neck to hold on. He lowered his hand again, this time slipping two fingers inside of her, and Mary gasped against his lips, breaking their kiss. It hurt a little, and maybe that was how she could tell the difference. It felt bigger, but Bash was careful with her. He eased them inside, and Mary breathed out with a pleasurable sound as her fingers clutched deeply into his skin.

 

When he moved them this time, Bash curled his fingers inside of her. Mary felt a burst of physical sensation course through her, her nerves alight with passion. He laid his body over hers instead of hovering for any longer, and he kissed her more slowly than before as he focused on moving his hand quicker between her legs. Mary felt her muscles clench up in response, a throbbing sensation entering her body. Her legs became tighter around his body. Despite his kisses, her moans could not be held back any longer to the dainty, soft sighs of a young girl. Mary scrambled to hold onto him, and her voice rose up as his hand quickened more, hitting a spot in her that she hadn’t known was there.

 

Through the rising pressure deep within her center, Mary squeezed her eyes shut and saw a flash of light behind her eyelids, bright and blinding despite the dark. Her whole body descended into rough shakes, ripples of pleasure wracking her body. It was unlike anything she had ever imagined she could feel; a pure bliss, a heavenly high that set her above all else like a cloud, weightless and free, in the air, and most of all, made her feel happy like nothing else.

 

She ran her hand through his hair, breathing against his mouth. Sebastian kissed her, softly, gently, and pulled back. She felt him leave her hands, but she was still coming down from all of the sensations he had invoked in her.

 

Mary didn’t know what he was doing until he was down between her legs again, carefully lifting her legs and placing them over either one of his shoulders. With his hands on the tops of her thighs, holding them, he descended on her with his mouth again as he had done in the kitchen. Her body jolted in both pleasure and protest, still shaking from her climax, but the touch of Bash’s lips and his tongue only sparked the feelings alive again. Mary thought she had been spent of them, that it could only happen once at a time, but she felt his tongue lap at her, at her most intimate place, and she quavered all over again.

 

Her hands sought out his hair as he lay there between her legs, and she grasped onto it as she felt his lips on her clit while one of his hands left her thighs. He slid his finger inside of her again, and Mary gasped aloud before he slipped a second one in to add onto the pressure. Mary called out to God in the most blasphemous way, unable to stop herself, as he worked his fingers in and out of her, sucking on her clit and coursing her passion over the edge a second time with tremors ten times more powerful than before. Her entire chest shook along with the rest of her body as she came down off of her high, and Sebastian withdrew his fingers from her, his lips softly kissing her thigh.

 

Mary was unable to stir, so she lay there on the lounge in an utter daze until she felt Sebastian move up her body again. He kissed her on the mouth from above, and Mary closed her eyes, touching the side of his face. The motion was gentle and kind, as his hand mirrored hers on the side of her cheek.

 

For some time, Mary was unable to speak. Sebastian continued to kiss her softly, though, filling the silence with physical action instead of words. His hand grazed the side of her cheek, gently combing itself through her hair as he peppered her face with kisses. Mary closed her eyes, trying to learn how to breathe again.

 

She reached up to grasp his wrist, and he stopped with his affections. Sebastian pulled back slightly, looking down at her. When Mary opened her eyes, she saw his bright eyes regarding her from above, and he smiled at her.

 

“I think I heard a prayer to God somewhere in there,” he said cheekily.

 

Mary felt her face burn hot with embarrassment. Despite a shy smile, she turned to look away from him. “You’re mocking me,” Mary said, but her hand remained steadfast with its hold on his wrist.

 

Sebastian leaned down to kiss the side of her cheek. “Never,” he told her in a low voice. “It’s natural, nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

“People call out to God during . . . ” Somehow, Mary couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud, even if she had just experienced it. She still wasn’t sure what she was supposed to call it. Mary didn’t even know if there was a word for it. It was no word _she_ had ever been taught.

 

“All the time,” Bash murmured near her ear, and that caused Mary to look up at him.

 

“Bash, if you do this with anyone else—”

 

It was panic, panic setting in that he might be just like his brother, but Sebastian caught her hand gently between his fingers and brought it to his mouth to kiss it. He looked over her hand into her eyes as he pulled away. “Not for a long time,” he said to her, “and certainly not since I saw you.”

 

His words warmed her heart instantly, for she remembered a time not long after her arrival when she brought Francis some stones for his swords, and he had had a woman in his room with him then, too. Olivia hadn’t been the first, and Mary was certain she would not be the last.

 

Francis was just like their father, the king.

 

But Sebastian, Mary couldn’t remember having ever seen him with anyone. Since she had arrived, Sebastian had often been by himself whenever she saw him. She had never seen a woman on his arm or a woman leaving his chambers, nor had she seen him give affection towards anyone either.

 

It struck her, then. Mary’s eyes went slightly wide as she gazed up at him.

 

She reached up to touch the side of his face, cupping his cheek. “Have you been . . . ” Mary trailed off, though, not knowing what word was proper to use. Finding none, she pushed forward. “ . . . Only me?”

 

The firelight flickered inside of his eyes, and he leaned his cheek into her hand as he gazed down at her.

 

“Only you,” Sebastian answered quietly.

 

Mary felt her heart swell at his words, and she reached up to pull him down to her for another kiss, sealing their lips together once more.

 

The fire crackled on, wood sizzling and snapping under flame, as they remained on the lounge. They kissed in the sight of the flames with him still on top of her, her red robe spread wide open beneath his clothed body, one side of it having fallen to the floor. Her hands both came up to hold him behind his head, her bare legs wrapped around his waist as the light of the fire licked her bare skin in its illumination and their bodies became an entangled embrace upon the cushions.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

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When Mary awoke to light and soft chirruping sounds in the distance, she stirred and turned her head to look towards the light.

 

It was daytime, and she was lying under the blankets in a large bed. She still had the robe around her body, tied at the waist, though its knot had come undone in her sleep. There was a weight around her middle, and warmth at her back. Mary rolled around, tangling the covers about her body, to find Bash behind her on the bed. His arm was thrown over her waist, but he was still clothed as he had been last night. Nothing further had happened between them. They had retired for the night, taking one of the beds upstairs together, but they had simply fallen asleep instead of going further.

 

Mary turning around in his arms was enough to wake him up, though, and Bash stirred beside her, blinking open his eyes. His expression softened at the sight of her, and his eyes seemed to smile. It reached his mouth, the corner of it quirking upward as he looked at her.

 

“Bash, I have to get back,” Mary said. It was the first thing that entered her mind. She was gone all evening and all night, and if her ladies weren’t panicking, then the guards were out looking for her, and she had to return as soon as possible to prevent something bad from happening.

 

If Francis found out where she had been . . .

 

Bash had a knowing look in his eyes, though, and he pulled away from Mary to roll out of the bed. She watched, pulling the sheet up to her chin, as he got to his feet, grabbed his things, and sat down to slip on his boots. She stared at his back as he laced them up when she should have been getting out of the bed herself to get her clothes. Instead, she was still in the bed when he was done. Bash turned around to look at her, confusion marking his face at her presence still in the bed.

 

“Well,” he said, “are you going to get up?” A grin spread over his face. “Or do I have to carry you?”

 

Mary pulled the sheet higher, her eyes widening, but there was a small smile on her face as well. “You wouldn’t—”

 

Bash came around the bed, though, scooping her up into his arms as the blankets and sheets fell away. She was in his embrace, her robe falling open, and her arm around his neck. He grinned at her, his eyes glittering, but they fell from her face to glance over her body.

 

Mary remembered last night, her face flushing with heat all over again. Her hand slipped away from his neck to touch his cheek, and Bash leaned closer to her. His lips hovered over hers for a moment, and Mary rose to meet them. She curled her hand behind his head, grasping his hair and pulling him closer as they kissed so sweetly while he held her. Though she knew she had to leave, with each passing moment it was becoming harder and harder for her to accept.

 

The longer she stayed here, the harder it would be to leave.

 

Before she knew it, he had laid her gently against the bed again, crawling atop of her on the sheets. His lips were soft on hers, and Mary placed both of her hands on his sides, instinctively hooking one of her legs around his hip and the heel of her foot against one of his knees. The rush of heat down the center of her body caused Mary to move her hands lower along Bash’s sides, and her hands reached the waist of his pants. She grasped at the material with clutching fingers, and she thought then a darker thought: What would it be like to have him inside of her, a thought no doubt brought on by hormones, not that she fully understood them. This was the most intimate Mary had never been with a man, and it aroused her, scared her, and confused her.

 

Suddenly, she turned her head away from his kisses, and Bash paused above her. She removed her hands from his pants, though she raised them back to his sides. Despite her uncertainty, Mary didn’t want to stop touching Bash, that much was clear. He was a comfort to her when all else was turbulence and heartache, but in his own way, Bash was another reason to make her heart race, though it was for completely different reasons.

 

He was still, but she noticed him tilt his head out of the corner of her eyes. Bash placed his hands against the bed, holding himself up.

 

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his voice so soft, so worried like he always was, and Mary bit down hard on her bottom lip as she turned to look back at him with a pained expression.

 

She shook her head. “No,” she said, “no, it’s not you.”

 

Bash reached up with one of his hands, running the back of his fingers along her cheek. Mary closed her eyes. She felt a tremble deep within, and her heart hurt. A rush of warmth filled her, his small gestures of kindness always there to comfort her, but Mary knew, in many ways, this was doomed.

 

She couldn’t be with him.

 

He couldn’t be with her.

 

She was a queen, and he was a bastard. It was absurd, no matter how right it felt.

 

“Bash, I can’t be with you in that manner,” Mary said in a rush, her hand resting upon his chest above her, her fingers curling into the fabric unconsciously. When she opened her eyes, she saw nothing but a look of complete understanding in his eyes as he gazed down at her. Slowly, Bash nodded his head.

 

“Okay,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her cheek.

 

Mary put her hand against the back of his hand, leaning her cheek into his touch. She felt the crinkled look of confusion mark her face as she gazed up at him. He could be killed for this. They could execute him for this, and still he touched her so boldly, so unafraid.

 

“Bash, do you have feelings for me?” Mary blurted out, unable to stop herself.

 

He turned his head slightly, a small smile creasing his lips and making his eyes glitter. “Would I do any of this if I didn’t?” he asked right back, challenging her.

 

Mart felt her lips part. She felt her look of surprise. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek in her hand, stroking her thumb gently over his skin.

 

She reached up then to kiss him, and Bash kissed her back with all of the passion he could muster to show her his words were true.

 

_Francis has you. Why would he ever look elsewhere?_

 

Mary broke away from the kiss at the memory of Bash’s words to her, breathing heavily. “I must get back,” she said with urgency, pushing her hand against his chest. Bash got up from the bed, holding out his hand to Mary. She looked at him and accepted it, and Bash helped her off of the bed.

 

When Mary had gotten her clothes from yesterday back on, despite the flour, she brushed her hair and re-braided it in front of an old blurry mirror, trying her best to look decent. She knew her ladies were going to ask questions, and Mary tried her hardest to think up an excuse for why she had been gone all night. She finally settled on telling them that once it had gotten too dark for her to travel back on her own, she found shelter in an old abandoned cottage for the night, too afraid to travel the roads at night by herself.

 

She only hoped that they would believe it.

 

Bash walked with Mary outside, and he watched as she mounted her horse. Once she was in the saddle, Mary guided her horse around and spotted Bash walking away from her towards his horse tied to a nearby fence. She watched, perplexed, as he untied the animal.

 

“Bash, what are you doing?” Mary asked.

 

Bash looked back at her. “I’m riding with you,” he said, mounting the horse.

 

“You _can’t_ ,” Mary argued. “You’ll be seen—”

 

Bash smiled at her, passing the reins into one of his hands. “I won’t be seen,” he countered. “I know how to stay out of sight. _You_ , on the other hand,” he added, trotting his horse over to Mary’s side, “it’s not safe for you to travel through the woods alone. You know it’s dangerous, Mary. You shouldn’t have come alone yesterday. I thought you might travel with one of your ladies, but since you didn’t, I’ll accompany you back today.”

 

“I got here just fine on my own yesterday,” Mary tossed back at him, but Bash had an answer for that as well.

 

“Yesterday is not today,” he said, looking over at her and cocking his head, “and I won’t risk it.”

 

“But you’ll risk your head?” she asked haughtily, gripping onto the reins tightly. Bash was bringing out her temper, even if he didn’t mean to, but Mary thought that this was reckless and foolish, and she refused to be the cause of something bad happening to him.

 

Bash only smiled at her. “Let me worry about my head,” he told her, turning his horse away from her at last and heading for the path, “and meanwhile, I’ll worry about yours as well.”

 

Mary sighed deeply, knowing it was pointless to argue with him. This was one thing he would insist on, she knew, so she guided her horse to follow him.

 

The path seemed brighter today and less unfriendly. For the most part, they were quiet on their journey, and Mary gazed at the light beams through the trees and the flowers in bloom along the ground beside the path. They kept their horses at a steady trot, and when they reached the turn in the path that led to the cottage her ladies were at, Mary halted her horse on the road along with Bash.

 

“This is it,” Bash said, knowing the area better than her, and Mary looked over at him. He was right at her side on his horse. Bash glanced at her. “Will you come back tomorrow?”

 

“Yes,” Mary said before she could even think about it. The answer came out so fast, though, that she felt her shock at her response. Her lips parted in surprise, and Bash’s smile was back on his face again. This time, however, it was nearly a grin.

 

He leaned over his horse, slipping his hand behind her head and pulling her in for a kiss. It was chaste, a touch of lips and nothing more. When he pulled away, his breath was warm against her mouth. “I will be here waiting for you in the morning, then,” Bash said.

 

“At night,” Mary countered in a low voice. “Tonight,” she added quickly, “when everyone is asleep. It will be easier, then, to avoid the guards.”

 

Bash pulled back further, looking surprised. “At night, then,” he agreed.

 

Mary kissed him back again one last time. When they broke apart, Bash let her go and took the reins into both of his hands again. He turned his horse away and rode off, and Mary watched him go with a sinking feeling of longing in the pit of her stomach.

 

Eventually, she turned onto the path that led up to the manor house. She saw her ladies all outside, but none of the guards were about, and when they spotted her, they all lifted up their skirts and hurried towards Mary to meet her on the road.

 

“Where have you _been_?” Greer demanded immediately, grabbing the reins of the horse and dropping her skirts.

 

“We had to tell the guards you were up in your room, feeling unwell and resting all day after you disappeared like that,” Lola accused, and Mary wondered if it was her who came up with the story to cover her.

 

“They’ve been asking questions, too,” Aylee added with a knowing glance, “and we’ve done everything we can to turn them away from the room. They’ve been wanting to take you back to the castle, thinking you’re too ill to be out here away from the court physicians . . . ”

 

“Lola even pretended to be you for a moment,” Greer said, raising her eyebrows. “I stood outside the door to hold them off while Lola coughed and moaned, and Aylee here pretended to take care of you. So far, it’s worked.”

 

Mary smiled brightly down at all of them. Even if they were her ladies, they were her friends first, and she would always remember that.

 

“So,” Greer demanded yet again, “where have you _been_?”

 

“Help me with my horse first, will you?” Mary asked them all as she dismounted the animal. “Before the guards see me and ask _more_ questions than you.”

 

Aylee took the horse to tie her up, and Lola walked off to watch the grounds and make sure no one noticed Greer sneaking Mary back into the huge cottage. Greer took her up to the rooms they had been pretending she was resting in, and then Greer shut the door and took one look at Mary’s clothes and made a face at them.

 

“Let’s get you out of that mess first,” Greer said, turning away from Mary as she proceeded to tear through the clothes to find Mary something to wear.

 

Mary stripped out of the outfit, laying it on the back of a chair, as Greer picked out a new dress for her. It was a pale green with white lace and crested with little clear gems near the neckline. Mary thought it was too beautiful to wear out here in a cottage, and she shook her head at the choice.

 

“That’s too much,” Mary said. “We’re not at court—”

 

Greer raised her eyebrows, holding up the dress. “Who says you have to be at court to look your best? You can wear whatever you want, Mary. You’re _Queen_. You might as well look like one everyday of your life, shouldn’t you?”

 

Greer helped Mary into the dress, and then she sat her down at the vanity to get the tangles out of Mary’s hair with a brush when the other girls walked in. Aylee and Lola took seats respectively on the edge of the bed and one of the chairs, and as Greer brushed her hair, Mary felt all of their eyes on her back.

 

“What?” Mary asked. “You’re all looking at me.”

 

“Where did you go last night?” Lola inquired from the chair. “You said you’d be back, and then you never came back. We were so worried. We almost told the guards what had happened because we were afraid for your life.”

 

“I got lost on the road,” Mary lied as she looked down at her lap, feeling awful for the lie, but it was better than the truth, “so I took shelter at an old abandoned cottage I found along the way back. I didn’t want to travel the road at night. It’s unsafe, you know, so I rested there. When I woke up, it was daylight, and I could see the path better, and I found my way back.”

 

Her ladies were all quiet, skeptical and unbelieving. Mary could feel it. Even the hand Greer used to brush Mary’s hair had slowed down, and she could feel their eyes on her back again, their gazes searing hot.

 

“It’s the truth,” Mary added weakly, and Greer stopped completely, placing the brush on the vanity and taking a seat in a chair next to Mary. Mary glanced over at her friend, and Greer’s piercing look saw right through her.

 

Mary glanced over at Lola and Aylee. Lola’s pointed expression told Mary she didn’t believe her either, and Aylee was less pressuring than either of the other two, but she was just as unconvinced as them. Mary’s eyes flitted back to Greer. She couldn’t tell them the truth. She just couldn’t.

 

 _They wouldn’t understand_ , Mary thought.

 

“I can’t tell you the truth,” Mary blurted out. She shook her head, looking from Aylee to Lola to Greer. “I want to, believe me, I do, but I can’t tell you.”

 

Lola’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about Sebastian?” she asked.

 

Mary felt her throat seize up. “No,” Mary lied, touching her neck. “No, of course not.”

 

Greer shared a look with Aylee. Mary glanced between them both in disbelief.

 

“I swear,” Mary tried to deny. “It’s _not_.”

 

“I saw him riding off,” Aylee said quietly. “Before you showed up, he was riding west on the road away from the cottage.”

 

Mary felt her heart begin to race. Her hand lowered from her neck to her chest as if it might help to calm the fierce pounding, but then she felt Greer’s hand on her back.

 

“Mary,” Greer said quietly to her, “we are your friends. You can be honest with us.”

 

Mary wasn’t sure if she was ready to be so honest, though, but if they all already knew, how could she hide it from them?

 

“Sebastian has had feelings for you, Mary,” Lola said in the same measured tone as Greer. “If you have feelings for him, too . . . ”

 

Mary looked up at all three of them, clutching hard onto the fabric of her dress with her hand. “You can’t tell anyone,” she said quickly. “Please, you mustn’t speak a word—”

 

Aylee’s eyes lit up. “So, it’s true, then?”

 

All of them were quiet. Mary glanced between her ladies, her dearest friends, as Lola, Greer, and Aylee all shared looks with one another. Finally, they looked to Mary, and Greer’s hand rubbed a soothing pattern on her back.

 

“No one will it hear it from us,” Greer said pointedly. “After Francis and Olivia, I mean . . . ”

 

“You don’t think it’s wrong?” Mary asked her, turning to look at Greer. As much as they had all been raised on such strict customs as befitting for women, there were some things ladies kept private between themselves away from the public. There were some things they knew of and didn’t share, and this was one of those things.

 

“It’s hardly fair,” Lola said slowly, the least cautious of the girls when it came to men. Outside of Kenna, of course, but Kenna had not known a man before the king. “Francis, free to do whatever he wants? You, in a cage?”

 

“But you haven’t,” Aylee started to say, casting her gaze away, “you know . . . ”

 

Mary’s eyes widened, and she looked down at her lap. “No, definitely not,” she said. “We were just . . . cooking. He showed me how to make bread.” Mary lifted her hand, gesturing at the dress on the back of the chair that Lola was sitting in. “That’s why there’s flour all over my dress.”

 

All three girls looked at Mary’s dress, and Lola turned around to take the dress into her hands and lift it slightly from the chair. They all shared a look, and Mary watched as they burst into giggles at the sight of the flour on it.

 

Mary found herself smiling. Perhaps it was a smaller lie, but it was one she could live with. They could accept her with Sebastian as long as it meant she kept her integrity intact, and this was something Mary could live with. She smoothed out the lap of the pale green dress she wore with her hands.

 

Greer put her hand on Mary’s shoulder, though, as Aylee and Lola still laughed over the dress. Mary looked up at her friend, who was now standing beside her.

 

“It’s all right, Mary,” Greer said quietly to her, but there was a look in her eyes, a sharp look. A warning, Mary knew. “As long as you do not forget that you must wed Francis one day.”

 

But as Greer’s hand fell from her shoulder, Mary lowered her gaze again.

 

It was a reminder that Mary could have done without.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

 

Mary lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, clutching her fingers fast onto her blanket. Beneath the sheets, she was already dressed in her finest riding clothes. Her heart was beating rapidly despite the fact that she was lying absolutely still. Bash would be coming for her tonight, and she would meet him by the woods at the edge of the road. It was enough to send her heart into a frenzy just thinking about it because of the late hour at which they planned to meet. Her memories of what had occurred between them just the other night played vividly throughout her head as she lay there until she could take no more, and she threw her covers back quietly as she glanced about the room with caution.

 

Placing her feet upon the floor, Mary crept over Greer’s bed to tap her friend on the shoulder. Greer rolled over and looked up, clearly wide awake, and together, they woke the others as well. It was part of their plan to get Mary out without the guards seeing her. She was lucky to have such friends who didn’t mind breaking the rules for her without saying anything to Francis. Their loyalty, after all, was to her.

 

Lola and Aylee watched the guards as Greer snuck Mary out of the cottage. They made it to the horses unseen, and Greer helped Mary to saddle her mare without much light to help them see. Mary mounted the horse easily, though, taking the reins in her hands as Greer reached up to pat the mare’s long neck.

 

“Be careful, Mary,” Greer told her, glanced upward. She gave her friend another one of her classic pointed looks. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she added as she raised her eyebrows knowingly.

 

Mary smiled softly at Greer. “If I didn’t do anything _you_ wouldn’t do,” she said, “I wouldn’t be leaving in the first place, Greer.”

 

Greer grinned at that. “Oh, really? Well, maybe I have a few secrets from you as well, _Mary_.”

 

Mary’s eyes widened as her smile turned into a grin, too. “Oh?” she teased back. “Well, then, when I get back, you must tell me _all_ about them.”

 

Still grinning, Mary turned the horse around to lead the animal towards the road in the darkness off to the left of the cottage. She didn’t want to be seen riding the animal off onto the path in front of the house in case any of the guards who were still awake glanced out of one of the windows. It would be just her luck, too, so Mary stuck to the shadows until she reached the tall brush along the edge of the property, and then she walked the animal around them.

 

Bash was there on the road atop his horse, reins in hand.

 

Mary stopped suddenly at the sight of him, her heart freezing a beat inside of her chest and her breath halting as well. At least until her body remembered to start them back up again a second later. Mary exhaled a shaky breath, casting her gaze away from him, but her heart beat so fast and it did not want to slow down.

 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Bash joked with her, a hint of amusement in his tone. He brought his horse around to her, which caused her to look up. There was a small smirk on his lips as their gazes met, and a glint appeared in his eyes. Mary was not sure if it was there naturally or if the moonlight had put it there.

 

“You might be one,” Mary threw back, teasing him in equal measure. She wasn’t sure where the words came from, but they caused a curious look to fly across his face before it was gone just as quickly, and he leaned over his horse to touch her cheek and kiss her softly. Their lips lingered together for a moment, and then he pulled away.

 

“Am I still a ghost?” he asked in a quiet voice.

 

Mary breathed out a ragged breath. “A very warm ghost,” she said just as softly.

 

Bash grinned at her, and he sat back on his horse. “Well, then, let’s be on our way to our haunting,” he said, turning his horse away from her and trotting ahead.

 

Mary followed him until they made it back to the old cottage he was staying at a ways down the road from their countryside manor. Bash told her to go on inside as he took care of their horses. She dismounted hers, casting a glance back at him as she handed over the reins, and his kind smile assuaged her. She then left him alone with the animals, heading towards the cottage in the dark.

 

Mary opened the front door to find a few candles burning in the hallway, but not many. She took off her riding coat and hung it beside the door on a hook. Taking one of the lit candles in hand, she began to light more of them until the hall was filled with a glowing candlelight. As she returned the candle back to its original holder, Mary heard the door shut. She looked at Bash to see him standing by the door, and she smiled at him.

 

With it being nighttime, there was a strange current in the air not present during the day. As Bash approached her, the crackling charge seemed to grow.

 

“Are you tired?” he asked her, pulling off a set of riding gloves.

 

“Yes,” Mary said quickly, looking down at his hands. She wasn’t tired, but she was afraid of what they might do if they stayed awake together. Mary knew they had to have some kind of limits, but here in this house all alone made that harder to remember.

 

Bash held out one of his hands to her.

 

“I’ll take you to your room,” he said, and Mary looked up at his face again. She smiled at him, and then she took his hand.

 

Bash led her to one of the rooms. It was the last one she had fallen asleep in for a nap. There, he let go of her hand in the doorway.

 

“I’ll be in the room down the hall,” Bash told her, surprising Mary. She had been gazing into the room itself, but his words drew her head in a sharp whirl to meet his eyes. “Third door on your right,” he added with a soft smile, placing his hand atop hers. “If you need anything, Mary, don’t hesitate to ask me.”

 

Somehow, Mary had thought that they might share a room. She wasn’t sure why, but certainly, after yesterday . . .

 

“Thank you, Sebastian,” she said instead, forcing a smile.

 

His smile grew, and he touched the side of her face. Leaning forward, he placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. He was oblivious to her distress, it seemed, but it was so dark. Perhaps he didn’t see it on her face, or perhaps he thought it best if they slept in separate rooms. And separate beds.

 

His lips lingered on hers for a chaste kiss, but then he pulled away as his thumb caressed her cheek. With a final bright smile, he withdrew from Mary. He left her alone in the room, closing the door behind himself. It shut with a soft _click_ , and Mary turned to look at the room now that she was alone.

 

She prepared herself for bed, pulling on a fine charmeuse sleeping gown that she found in the wardrobe. Crawling beneath the sheets, she found it incredibly cold in the bed alone. Even after laying there for a good while, the bed never seemed to warm up to her. Mary stayed awake, turning around fitfully in the bed, as she remembered the warmth of the fireplace and Bash’s slow kisses from above her. With her eyes shooting open, she stared across the emptiness at the wall.

 

She would never get to sleep like this.

 

Throwing her covers aside, Mary padded over to the door and opened it up. He said she could come to him if she needed anything. Mary wasn’t sure how late it was or if Bash had fallen asleep yet, but she walked the hallway to the third door on the right as he had instructed her, and softly, she knocked on the door.

 

When there was no answer, Mary carefully tried the handle.

 

The door opened easily, unlocked.

 

Mary stepped inside. The moonlight poured in from the window, casting a blue glow upon the floor and half of the bed. She saw Sebastian lying on his side. He hadn’t closed the drapes, leaving them open instead. Mary imagined he wanted the sunlight to wake him up bright and early in the morning. The window faced the east, so it would be bright come the morning.

 

She crept quietly across the floor, hoping he wouldn’t be angry with her, but she couldn’t sleep alone. When she reached the side of the bed, Mary pulled back the sheets and slid under them. She lifted them to her shoulders, turning over on her side. Bash was fast asleep. He didn’t move an inch. His back was facing her.

 

Mary stared at the back of his head and his shoulder. He wore a thin white shirt to bed. Certainly, it was cold enough for one. With a little bit of thought, Mary moved closer to him underneath the covers. It was warmer as she drew closer to him. Heat emanated off of him in waves, warming the sheets.

 

Mary pressed her chin against the point between his shoulder blades beneath his neck as she slid her arm around his middle. She also pressed her nose gently to his neck, closing her eyes and breathing in the scent of him. He smelled natural, like himself and of the earth. Bash stirred in his sleep, and Mary opened her eyes as he shifted against the bed.

 

She froze, wondering if she had woken him.

 

Bash turned over in the bed, beneath her arm, until he was facing her on the bed. There was surprise in his sleepy eyes, and his hair was a tousled mess. He didn’t look angry, though. He reached up his hand, touching her cheek.

 

He always touched her cheek.

 

“Mary,” Bash said, sounding like he was in disbelief, “what are you doing here?”

 

Mary opened her mouth, catching on her breath. “I couldn’t sleep,” she managed to say.

 

His thumb stroked her cheek, a smile curling the corner of his mouth. “So,” Bash teased, scooting closer to her, “you crawl into _my_ bed . . . ”

 

“It was so cold,” Mary said. “I thought it would be warmer here.”

 

“Is it?” he asked, his eyes still heavy.

 

“Yes,” Mary whispered, and Bash slowly closed his eyes, reopening them after a pause. He leaned close to her, placing a soft kiss upon her lips. It was yet another one of his chaste kisses with no tongue, not that Mary minded that. She loved his kisses, whether they were mild or passionate ones. She parted her lips, and Bash deepened the kiss as they lay there upon the pillows. His hand cupped the side of her face, his fingers grazing against the shell of her ear and sending a tingle through her shoulders.

 

When their lips parted, Bash slid his hand behind her head to cradle her soft hair in his grasp. He pressed his forehead against hers, resting his head fully upon the pillow once more. Their noses touched as his breath came out warm, and she let her eyes drift to a close. Mary ran her hand up his back, his skin hot to the touch through his shirt, and she scooted closer to him until their bodies were touching beneath the sheets.

 

“Goodnight, Mary,” Bash said softly.

 

A gentle smile curled at the corner of her mouth at his words.

 

“Goodnight, Bash,” Mary whispered back, and she ran her hand up and down on his shirt, her fingers curling and unfurling against the fabric until she fell asleep in his arms.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive the angst. It was unavoidable.

* * *

 

Mary laughed as she rode her horse ahead of Bash, galloping into an open field with red poppies in full bloom. The air was fresh with the smell of flowers, and a light breeze caught in her hair. The sun shone high above their heads, imparting its warmth all around them and its illumination in the sky. It was a lovely day, and nothing could ruin it.

 

Bash caught up with her in the field, charging ahead of her. He came to a sudden stop and brought his horse around to face her. Bash squinted against the sun, but his grin was just as brilliant as the sun’s beams that half-blinded him. Mary had to bring her mare to a halt before his horse, and she cast him a sharp but playful glance for interrupting her mare’s gallop.

 

“You dare interrupt a queen’s passage?” Mary teased him, and if possible, Bash’s grin grew wider.

 

“Oh, I dare more than that, Your Grace,” he teased right back.

 

“Oh?” Mary asked, pretending to be curious. “And what else do you dare?”

 

“A race,” Bash suddenly suggested. His tone was perky. “To the end of the field. First one there decides what we do next with our day.”

 

Mary’s mouth fell open in shock. “But I wanted to have a picnic,” she protested, glancing down at the small burlap sack tied to her horse’s side that carried their basket for lunch. Bash might have prepared the food, but Mary had packed it all nice and neatly and tucked it away. She hadn’t ridden her horse too hard, afraid she might crush or ruin the contents of their picnic basket in the process.

 

“Well, then,” Bash said, grinning at her, “best to beat me in that case, isn’t it?”

 

Mary gasped aloud as Bash snapped his horse’s reins, heading off in a mad dash off through the flowers in the meadow. She snapped her mare’s reins as well, but she was already behind him. Forgetting about the picnic basket at her side, Mary rode the horse as fast as she could manage to catch up with him.

 

They tore through the field at an alarming rate, kicking up flowers in their wake. The smell of crushed grass and poppy petals was powerful, and it threatened to overwhelm her senses, but the clean scent of the wind filled her lungs they came upon the end of the meadow. Its downward slope grew steep and the edge was unseen, so Mary pulled back on the reins. She was fearful of the descent. The last thing she wanted to do was to hurt her horse or have the mare throw a shoe.

 

Bash, on the other hand, tore forward through the tall grass and down the slope.

 

He was already going to win the race. Mary knew it, so she carefully guided her mare down the slope beyond the meadow. The land was steep, leading into thick brush and land spotted with a thin spread of trees. There were fallen logs as well as dead branches littering the ground, but Mary navigated a safe way around it all to the edge of the land. She reached a shoreline of wide lake. The trees became a decent cover near the shoreline, offering shelter and privacy, and the lake itself was secluded, quiet, and still.

 

Mary cast her gaze over the lake. Its waters were undisturbed. Not a single ripple grazed its surface, and the sky, trees, and a nearby mountaintop were reflected in the dark waters like a mirror’s surface.

 

Mary heard a rustle near the brush to her left, and she glanced over to look. Bash came out of the trees and shrubbery, peeling the shirt off his back and hanging it over the bushes. When he saw Mary, he smiled at her.

 

“It looks like I get to choose our next activity,” he told her as he walked towards her horse. Mary’s eyes followed him until he stood beside her. “We’re going to go swimming,” Bash added with a grin, and he patted her mare’s neck before he turned away from her. He walked over to the edge of the water, still wearing his trousers, but barefoot. Mary couldn’t help but stare at him like he was crazy.

 

“We have nothing to swim in,” she protested, but Bash was already wading into the water.

 

“You have your undergarments,” Bash called out, turning around to face her as he slowly backed into the water. He held out his arms. “Wear those!”

 

Not for the first time that day, Mary felt her jaw fall loose from shock.

 

It was absurd. He expected her to swim in her undergarments? In truth, it wasn’t anything Mary hadn’t done before, but this wasn’t Scotland and she wasn’t at the nunnery anymore. She was the Queen of Scotland, and she was _not_ supposed to be stripping down to her lady garments to go swimming in a lake for anybody to come along and see her.

 

Mary watched with trepidation as Bash got deep enough into the water to dive in fully, and then her reservations began to leave her. It was just her and Bash. No one else was around for miles, and no one else would see her. With a sigh, Mary dismounted her horse and removed her side pouch. She placed it in the bag with their picnic supplies, and then she led her mare over to the trees to tie her up.

 

Removing her riding coat was easy, Mary found. She hung it on the bush along with Bash’s shirt. Taking off the rest of her outer clothes was hard, though. Mary struggled with the buttons on her dress, but she managed to wiggle herself out of it. Beneath her gown, she wore a cream-colored chemise that reached a little past her knees. It wasn’t see-through now, but Mary wasn’t so sure what it would be like soaking wet after a dip in the lake.

 

Sighing out the last of her reservations, she appeared from behind the brush and walked over to the shoreline. Bash was floating on his back in the water, face up to the sky with his eyes shut. Mary smiled at the sight, and she grasped the sides of her chemise in her hands as she carefully waded into the water.

 

It was tepid and comfortable, and Mary was waist-deep before Bash even noticed her presence in the lake. He opened his eyes, sensing the ripple she brought into the water with her, and glanced over to look. Mary was well above her elbows as Bash righted himself in the water, and he swam over to Mary. The water sloshed against her chest, and she noticed Bash’s eyes cut down to her chemise. Mary cut her eyes downward as well.

 

The material was barely enough to hide her. If she could see her breasts through it, then she knew he could. Her cheeks grew hot, and when she looked up again, Bash caught her lips by surprise with his own. Quickly, his hand came up out of the water to hold the side of her face. Mary felt the water droplets tickle her skin as he kissed her. _Purification_ , she thought. The water cleansed and renewed souls, and she parted her lips for him, allowing him to deepen it as she lifted her hand to hold the back of his neck.

 

 _I am renewed_ , she thought, smiling, grinning even, as Bash pulled away from her.

 

He noticed her smile, and he regarded her quizzically. “I’ve never seen you smile like this,” Bash admitted, his hand still on her cheek.

 

Mary’s grin widened, crinkling her eyes at the corners, and she took Bash by the hands to pull him further into the lake. As they floated deeper into the water, she had to let go of his hands.

 

“I want to be new,” Mary called out, looking up at the sky. She had to squint at the sun’s rays overhead. “I want to be reborn, wild and free . . . ”

 

She felt Bash’s arm snake its way around her middle, pulling her close to him.

 

“You already are,” Bash said close to her ear.

 

Mary turned slowly in the water. There was no ground beneath her feet. She was floating with her arms out, the water reaching her chin. When she faced him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and neck, leaning into Bash.

 

“With you,” Mary whispered, and Bash’s eyes seemed to sparkle at that. For one moment in time, she was just a girl and he was just a boy. She had tried to be that way with Francis, but it had been impossible. They had too many expectations to live up to, too many rules to follow. Francis was a prince, and she was a queen. They would never be the way she and Bash were right now.

 

With Bash, Mary could be anything she wanted to be. She could be a queen one moment and a simple girl the next. She could be regal and silly. She could be just Mary from the convent, trudging through mud with the feel of the earth between her toes.

 

Mary kissed him first this time, sliding her hand through his wet hair, and Bash returned her kiss. Out here in the wild, no one could see them.

 

Until the sound of distant hoof beats reached Mary’s ears.

 

She pulled away from him quickly, startled by the sound. When she looked off in the distance, Mary saw a group of horses appear from behind the trees on the far side of the shore. Bash saw them, too. Instinct caused Mary to start swimming for the shore, but there was no time, and Bash caught her arm.

 

“We won’t make it to the bushes,” he said, but they were chest deep in the lake.

 

“They’ll see us!” Mary protested.

 

There was nowhere to go. Bash acted fast, though. He hid behind Mary, ducking low in the water until only his head was above the surface. Mary felt Bash press himself close against her back and hold onto her beneath the water. His head was to her back, the rest of him hidden in the lake. No one would see him. As long as she didn’t move from her place, she thought.

 

As the party came into sight, the worst of it was revealed. It was King Henry and Lady Kenna with a small group of retainers. They were out for a ride, it seemed, and they couldn’t have picked a worse spot to encroach upon than the lake. Luck was on Mary’s side, because only her horse was visible on the shore. She had tied the animal in front of the thick brush, while Bash had left his horse elsewhere.

 

Mary wasn’t sure exactly where Bash hid his horse, but it gave her a chance to lie her way out of this.

 

“Mary!” Kenna called out, a shocked tone to her voice. “Is that _you_?”

 

“Hello,” Mary called back shakily. Bash’s hand slipped on her beneath the water, going from her waist to her hip on accident, but Mary managed to ignore it.

 

“Queen Mary,” King Henry addressed her curtly. “What are you doing out here all alone at the lake? Where are your guards? Your ladies? Servants? Do you have no one with you?”

 

“My servant is with me,” Mary answered, “but she went to fetch a blanket for me to dry off with when I am ready to come out of the water.”

 

“What are you doing _in_ the water?” Kenna demanded.

 

“I . . . I wanted to go swimming in it,” Mary stuttered.

 

Kenna’s mouth was perpetually open, and she turned to look at King Henry. His brow was furrowed.

 

“Your Queen has unusual inclinations,” Henry replied. “Come, lad, fetch Queen Mary a cloak. You may come out of the water and join us for our afternoon rest.”

 

Mary opened her mouth to refuse the offer, but Kenna beat her to it. “Today was supposed to be for _us_ ,” she reminded King Henry in a lower voice. “Mary will be just fine without us. She has her own men and protection. She is in good hands.”

 

The young man who had hopped down from his horse on King Henry’s request paused, looking to his king for an answer. King Henry stared forward at Mary, breaking his gaze as he sighed and focused his eyes back on Kenna.

 

“Very well,” he said. “We will settle here—”

 

“Your Grace,” Mary said to him loudly, “I am but in my undergarments. Perhaps you and your party would be so kind as to allow me some privacy before I leave the lake to yourselves?”

 

King Henry seemed to be considering this. Again, he nodded his head. “Fine,” he said, and he waved at his men. The young man who had dismounted his horse returned to the saddle, and Mary watched with trepidation as the party began to turn around and head back for the trees.

 

Without a goodbye from the king but a glance back from Kenna, Mary watched as they slowly vanished into trees beside the lakeshore. Eventually, the party was a good distance away. She could no longer even hear the hoof beats of the horses, but it still did not quell her heart.

 

“Are they gone?” Bash asked quietly, still pressed low against her back.

 

“I think so,” Mary said, “but perhaps we should wait a little bit longer. Just to be safe.”

 

Bash said nothing, agreeing silently with Mary. After a few minutes had passed, she considered them lucky, and they removed themselves from the lake as fast as possible. Without even bothering to dry off and dress back into their clothing, Mary donned her riding cloak over her soaked garments and Bash pulled on his shirt. They mounted their horses and wasted no time in returning to the cottage.

 

Once she made it past the front door, Mary fell against the wall, her chest rising and falling as she breathed in deeply. Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

 

“Are you all right?” Bash asked her.

 

Mary glanced up at him. Bash was concerned, but he was also afraid to cross the personal boundary between them when she looked like this. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her, she knew, but he approached her slowly and kept his distance.

 

“I’ll be fine,” Mary said.

 

How true it was, though, she didn’t know. She had been terrified at the lake, and she was still terrified even now. They could have been found out just like that, so easily, and there would have been nothing Mary could have done to save Bash from a terrible fate at the hands of his father.

 

“Mary . . . ”

 

“I need a moment alone, Bash,” she said quickly, pulling away from the wall and walking away from him. She didn’t mean it to hurt him, but she was scared right now. At this cottage with Bash, Mary felt like she was staying at a paradise apart from the backstabbing and the lies of the French court, but today had been a hard reminder of the truth.

 

It was temporary.

 

It was all temporary.

 

One day, Mary would have to return to real life, and with it, her time with Bash would become a mere memory. They would have to leave it behind. She couldn’t be both married and with him. Mary had to make a choice, and she had to accept that choice for the rest of her life.

 

She found her way through the house to an empty room at the end of the hall. It was dusty with worn tapestries on the walls and frayed drapes hanging upon the windows. The sunlight cut into the room in a strong beam of light, striking a spot on the floor in the center of the room onto a rug.

 

Mary slowly walked into the center of the room. She stared down at the rug.

 

Sown into the fabric was a pattern depicting a simple scene of farm life. She saw a family tending to the animals, a field in bloom. Mary wasn’t sure why, but the scene moved her.

 

She bent down until she was nearly on her knees, crouching above it, and Mary reached out her hand to graze her fingertips over the rough material. _It would’ve been nice_ , Mary thought. To have been born lower, maybe even a peasant. To live a simple life of her own choosing. She might have married for love in a life like that. Her fingers grazed the flowing mane of a horse in the depiction on the rug, feeling rough texture against her skin.

 

Mary withdrew her hand, curling her fingers into her palm.

 

 _If only life could be so simple_ , she thought, and she rose from the floor. Mary turned around to head back to the hallway, but Bash was standing there in the doorway of the room, watching her intently with worry on his brow.

 

“Mary?” Bash asked so softly, sounding afraid of what she might say in response to her name.

 

Mary lifted her chin, though, steeling her features in place to be strong. “Bash,” she inquired, “would you mind drawing up some hot water for a bath?”

 

He was silent at first. Mary saw him swallow past a catch in his throat, though.

 

“Of course,” Bash told her, and he looked away before he turned away from her. Mary watched him go, feeling a spike of fear ignite in her heart.

 

“For two,” she called out quickly, giving Bash a pause. He froze in the doorway. When he glanced back at her, there was a mixture in his eyes of surprise as well as hope.

 

A hesitant curl of his lips, almost a smile, appeared at the corner of his mouth.

 

“For two,” Bash echoed back to her, and this time when he turned to walk away from her, Mary felt like her heart was burning down to cinders.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

 

Steam rose from the hot bath water. Mary dropped her robe to the floor, and she placed her foot upon the stepstool beside the large copper tub. There was a sheet lining the inside to prevent slipping, but Mary submerged herself into the water as slowly as possible without holding onto anything. It burned, but at the same time, it felt good.

 

She lowered herself until she was sitting in the water at the opposite end of the round tub, and then she turned around to face Bash’s gaze from across the room. He had watched her as he had done before, finding it hard to take his eyes off of her ever since she had given him open permission to look. When their eyes met, though, he managed to look away. Bash pulled towels from the rack to bring to the tub, keeping his eyes off of her this time.

 

Mary watched in silence as he put one towel on the floor beside the stepstool. He put the other two near the tub on a closed basket. Then, he walked away again, heading towards the rack a second time.

 

It was almost as if he was trying to keep himself busy.

 

“Bash,” Mary called out, feeling a little hesitant to be so bold, but the words came out, anyway. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

 

He paused at last, standing still for a moment with his head bowed. When Bash turned to face her, though, he seemed unsure as if he was unwilling to encroach upon her personal space. Mary wasn’t certain what brought about the change in him unless it was her behavior earlier. Once they had arrived back at the hidden cottage, she pulled away from him and asked for some time alone.

 

He had still followed her to make sure she was all right, but it was out of concern and not disrespect for her decision.

 

Carefully, Bash removed his shirt as he walked towards the bath. When he was stripped of all cloth and as naked as the day he was born, Mary turned her gaze away from him as he descended into the tub. Part of it was modesty, and part of it was respect.

 

Still, he had looked at her.

 

Bash sank into the water, moving to the center of the tub. He didn’t take the side furthest from her, nor did he come straight to her. He was looking at her, staring, gauging the situation most likely. Mary returned her eyes to him, tucking a stray piece of wet hair behind her ear and away from her face. The rest of it was in a bun on the back of her head to keep it out of the water.

 

“What was,” Bash began, but Mary caught a pause in the middle of his sentence, “ . . . bothering you earlier?”

 

“The idea of you getting hurt because of me,” Mary answered him, honestly and openly. He deserved the truth from her. She would not lie to him.

 

Bash tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes a bit. “By my father?”

 

“Of course,” Mary replied in a soft voice, touching her shoulder with her hand. “My betrothal to Francis still stands. If your father were to catch us together—”

 

Bash floated closer to her in the water until he was only a foot away. Mary tensed up, half nervous and half excited, wondering what he meant to do next.

 

“I can take care of my father. Let me worry about him,” Bash said in a low voice, and he shook his head. “You need not fear him.”

 

“He will call off the engagement if—” Mary blurted out.

 

Bash looked at curiously. “Do you still want to marry my brother?”

 

Mary drew in a sharp breath, not sure how to answer. She knew the answer, but she also knew he would not like it. “If my country—”

 

Bash floated a few inches closer until their mouths were barely apart. “I didn’t ask if it was for your country, Mary,” he murmured. “I asked if _you_ still wanted to marry him.”

 

Mary opened her mouth, finding no words to come out. She thought about it, but it was all cloudy in her head with Bash so close to her, and the steam rising from the hot water didn’t help matters at all. She tried to think, tried to put the pieces together, and then she realized with a sudden clarity what she wanted and not what she needed to do for her country. It was so easy, and yet it wasn’t because Mary warred with giving the answer out loud. Once it was said, she knew she would never be able to take it back.

 

“No,” Mary breathed out against his lips.

 

She felt Bash’s hand slip behind her neck and pull her closer to place a kiss upon her lips, and Mary kissed him back as his hand returned forward to cup the side of her cheek in his palm. With all of the heat around them, it was easy for her to lose herself in the moment. She cupped both sides of Bash’s face and pulled him against her. As Mary leaned back against the tub, Bash leaned forward, and their bodies touched beneath the water.

 

Mary had never felt Bash naked against her before. It was the first time, and the spike in her blood caused her kisses to grow more urgent. Her hands grasped for purchase on wet skin, and Bash kissed her harder as well. It was sudden and full of lust, but they had never fully let go before. They were always so careful with each other. Always so careful with their emotions, too.

 

Bash pinned her gently against the tub, one hand on the rim and one hand on her cheek. Mary wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him flat against her, kissing him passionately. It wasn’t long before her legs were around Bash’s waist as well, and he kneeled against the bottom of the tub with Mary in his lap. Her fingers slid through his damp hair, but just as things should have gone more heated between them, their kisses slowed down, and Bash’s lips were soft upon hers, lingering but not pushing. His hand was also gentle upon her face, sliding upward along her cheekbone and to her ear. It sent a shiver down her spine, and Mary held fast to him with her arms around his neck.

 

They had mostly stilled in the water aside from their slow kisses and touches.

 

The sudden burst of emotion between them had surprised Mary almost as much as their reactions had surprised her, too. Her hand carefully fell from his hair to his neck as their lips parted from one another. Mary could feel his breath and his heartbeat at once.

 

The young girl in her wanted this. She wanted to stay with Bash. She wanted to run away with him, forsaking her duties to claim a life of her own, a life based in love instead of the needs of her country. Mary had tried to make that work with Francis, but it had not worked out the way she had hoped for them. Francis had chosen the needs of his country over her, and in those moments, Mary knew they could never truly be happy together.

 

She knew, deep down, it would never last.

 

However, her feelings for Bash were different. As they pulled back slightly from one another and looked into each other’s eyes, Mary knew she could love Bash. Perhaps she wasn’t in love with him yet, but she knew she could put her trust in him and always receive his devotion in return. Mary knew she was beginning to feel something deep for him, something that reached down into the very bottom of her soul with its fingers. She could have that with Bash.

 

She could not have that with Francis.

 

Smiling at him, she reached out for his face to touch his cheek. Bash smiled back at her, but it was more of a curious look than anything.

 

“What are you thinking of?” he asked her.

 

“You,” Mary breathed out, curling her fingers behind his ear.

 

“Me?” he inquired further, his smile widening somewhat.

 

“Yes,” Mary whispered, “you.”

 

“And what of me?”

 

Her expression turned serious as her fingers caressed his face, and so did his. The smile fell from his face as the look in his eyes darkened, and together, they could not stop touching one another.

 

“If I could choose,” she said softly, “I would choose this.”

 

Bash looked down between them, avoiding her gaze. She sensed something was wrong, and she took his cheek in her hand to try and soothe his worries. He was stubborn, though, or reluctant.

 

“Bash . . . ”

 

“You can’t choose this, though,” he finally said, raising his eyes to hers. “Is that what you mean? That, in the end, you know you can’t?”

 

Mary took a deep breath, exhaling it. “I don’t know what the future will bring—”

 

“But I am not a legitimate son of France, Mary,” Bash said softly. “Marriage is—”

 

Mary took his face into her hands, her expression pleading with him. “Why must we think of marriage when we have now, Bash? Surely, we don’t need marriage just to love? I want to be with you, here, and—”

 

“Say that again,” Bash suddenly interrupted her. There was a curious look on his face, and Mary was confused by it. She furrowed her brow, shaking her head.

 

“Say what again?” she asked.

 

“That part about love,” he whispered, coming closer to her lips again.

 

Mary felt her heart begin to beat faster. She could love him without the vows of marriage. There was no rule in the world saying that Mary, Queen of Scots, could not fall in love before marriage. It was true of any young woman, and it was true for Bash as well. They didn’t need to be engaged or married to each other to fall in love anymore than falling in love meant they would be able to get married one day. It seemed almost a foreign concept to Mary, especially after being told her whole life that Francis was her destiny, that she would marry Francis, that she would fall in love with Francis.

 

Marriage was for life, a union of two souls that could not be undone.

 

. . . But so was love, in a way, its own union. And surely, God did not frown on love. Mary couldn’t comprehend the thought at all, though she knew the vows of chastity that were taught very firmly to all girls at a young age. Still, love was a gift borne from God, and in it was his pureness, his goodness, and his love.

 

Gently, she caressed her hand through his hair and smiled at him.

 

“We don’t need marriage,” Mary whispered to him, “to fall in love.” She leaned in close to Bash, brushing her nose against his as a small, hurt laugh escaped her mouth. “But it is a sweet thing to follow when two people have—” Mary almost felt as though she would cry, but Bash caught her lips in a sudden kiss and all of her thoughts drowned with his touch into the depths below.

 

She was a queen, and there were duties that always came with being a queen, but right now she was just a girl in the arms of a man who loved her truly, and Mary did not want to give up the moment so easily. She wanted to be that girl for now, and she wanted to hold onto him tightly until she absolutely had to let go. When that time came, she would figure out what to do, but until then, Mary wanted to know what it felt like to have one so devoted to her as Sebastian, and she wanted to know what it felt like if she could come to love a man who equally loved her in return.

 

Perhaps she was a queen, but even a queen deserved to be loved.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

 

When the royal messenger appeared at the gates of the quiet countryside manor she shared with her ladies, Mary knew his arrival had been imminent for weeks.

 

She had heard from Kenna’s visit only three Sundays prior of Francis lamenting about Mary’s prolonged absence from the castle. He had sent Olivia away at last, calling upon Kenna to ask Mary to come back, but Mary had refused at the time. She was enjoying her freedom in the countryside, and perhaps just as much, she also enjoyed being in the company of Sebastian as often she could leave to be with him, which was quite often.

 

This time, however, Francis had sent an official messenger. Mary raised her chin high, knowing what she might expect during such a visit. Likely, it would not be a request to return and join him, but a plea to come back dressed in a matter of state with the backing of political clout and urgency that Mary could not in good faith turn down.

 

She was right, of course. The messenger informed her that the Dauphin of France had a matter of urgency to discuss with her and that she must pack up her things and set out to the French court at once.

 

Mary told the messenger to head out before her. She promised her and her ladies would follow before long, but they would need time to pack. He agreed once he spoke with the guards to make sure it would be made so, and Mary felt her ears burn hot with anger at the prospect that he spoke with the guards. She had such little amount of freedom as it was, and it seemed Francis was insistent on taking it away from her.

 

The moment she got a chance, Mary broke free of the packing and rode her horse out to the cottage Bash was staying in to meet up with him.

 

If she had to go back to the castle, she wanted to at least tell him goodbye.

 

It began to a rain, a light drizzle and nothing heavy. The sun was still out, but a set of ragged clouds appeared in the sky, causing splits in the sunshine. The rays broke off from each other, piercing down through the forest canopy in golden streaks of light. Mary rode through them all as fast as her horse could carry her.

 

When she arrived at Bash’s cottage, she dismounted her mare as Bash came out of the front door to greet her. He must’ve seen her through one of the windows, though what he was doing inside was the more curious matter. Mary had always considered Bash to be one of the outdoors. He seemed to like them much more than being cooped up in the castle all day.

 

He grinned at her, and took her horse by the reins. “Go on inside,” he said. “I will tie her up.”

 

Mary put her hand out on Bash’s arm. “No, wait,” she told him quickly, giving him pause. “I can’t stay. I must speak with you. That’s why I came.”

 

The smile fell from his face as quickly as it had come, and his posture grew stiff. Bash knew something was wrong, and he had an inkling of what this was about. “Is it my brother?” he asked, without hesitation.

 

Mary was rueful to answer him. “Yes,” she said. “He has requested my presence back at court for a matter of urgency—”

 

Bash pursed his lips together, dropping his gaze. He shook his head. “There is no urgency. He just wants you back.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?” Mary asked him softly, and the stiffness in Bash’s shoulders went away. He lifted his eyes back to hers.

 

“If you go back, he won’t let you get away a second time. He’ll keep you there. He’ll make sure you stay.”

 

“Francis won’t make me do anything against my own will,” Mary said, raising her eyebrows. “But . . . I do understand that he will try to make me stay.”

 

Bash looked at her, a small, sad smile appearing on his face. “He will succeed,” he said.

 

“You discredit yourself,” Mary told him, shaking her head. “Too easily.”

 

“Will you come back?”

 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, looking back to the beaten dirt road that stretched forward from the little cottage to the winding path beyond the gate. “I want to,” Mary told him honestly, turning her head back to him, “but I am a queen, Bash, and I must also think of my country. Not just myself.”

 

His smile was gone. “If that wasn’t a no, then I don’t know what is.”

 

Mary stepped close to him. “I will not forget,” she whispered, looking him in the eyes. “I will try to come back, and if I cannot, then I will see if there is another way.”

 

Bash placed his hands on her waist. “We can always run away together.”

 

Mary grinned. “And where would we go?” she inquired.

 

“Scotland,” he said with hesitation. “I can be minstrel,” he teased. “I have a wonderful singing voice.”

 

Mary burst into joyful laughter at his jest. Even in such a sad moment, he found a way to make her happy. That was his gift. His ability to make her happy. Francis was only good at making her sad or making her cry, but Mary did not want to think about that as she was going back to court to see him again.

 

She leaned forward and kissed him. Bash tasted like the forest, warm like the air on her tongue as she breathed and delicious like the little tart berries under the boughs by the road. Mary allowed herself to get enveloped by the moment. She didn’t want to leave him, but for now, she had to.

 

When she pulled away, her hands were on his neck. “I will find my way back to you,” she promised, and she kissed him one more time.

 

As Mary gathered the reins in her hand, she turned back to gaze at Bash and the cozy little cottage behind him. She recalled all of the memories she had shared with him here in their secret place in the forest, and she smiled softly. She would never return to that cottage for as long as she lived, but Mary knew she would somehow find her way back to him.

 

With that in mind, she rode off from their secret home in the middle of the forest and back into the life that was expected of her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Notes:** And that's a wrap, folks! I would write more, but my muse has sadly left me when it comes to these two. It's not for lack of love, but just for how the writing was so poorly handled towards the end of the season. It really turned me off of the whole show. I wish they had made Mary and Bash's transition away from each other a little bit more realistic and not so forced, but no use crying over split milk, as they say. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this story, and thank you all for reading. ❤


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